Founders Oneshots

Hashirama takes the bellow of rage as an excuse to abandon his paperwork.

It's not like such a thing is uncommon these days, when Madara and Tobirama work together as closely as they do, but his eyes are getting tired from reading trade agreements and it's as good a reason to take a break as any.

His brother's office and the location of the sound is just a few steps down the hall. It takes takes Hashirama less than a moment to understand what's got his friend fuming this time.

Madara, head of the Uchiha clan, is covered head to toe with sparkly silver glitter, clutching a crumpled seal tag in one fist. In the corner, Izuna is hunched over on himself, wheezing with poorly suppressed laughter. Which doesn't actually mean Madara isn't about to start killing anyone, but it's a good sign.

"Oh, wow Madara." He says, purposefully blithe "When did you get a taste for fashion?"

"I hope you die." Madara turns on him with a snarl, "You and your brother both."

"I told you not to touch that." Tobirama says evenly, not even looking up from some scroll on his desk, "It's really only your own fault."

"No. You said it was none of my concern. That's --" Madara cuts himself off with another wordless growl of rage, and Hashirama loses the fight to keep his lips from twitching up.

"Aww. Think of it this way Madara, at least this way we won't lose you in a crowd."

For a moment, Madara looks like he really is about to start a fight, but he's cut off by a quiet snort, and then… Laughter. Not Izuna's, but Tobirama's, muffled behind a hand, and he's clearly trying to fight it off the way his shoulders are shaking, but his brother is laughing, and Hashirama can't help but stare because he can't remember the last time he heard that. Not in years, not since before Itama, if not Kawarama --

Madara is shocked too, staring with wide eyes. He recovers faster, remembering he's supposed to be angry and spinning on his heel to scatter glitter over as much of Tobirama's office as he can as he leaves with a huff.

"...Wow." Izuna says breathlessly after a moment, "Honestly. Glitter, Senju? That's cruel even for you."

Tobirama sniffs in response, though he's still clearly fighting off a smile.

"Not glitter." He says, "Modified flash powder. It won't hurt him, but he's in for a hell of a surprise the next time he uses a katon."

"...Which he's going to do right now. He always goes to the training fields when you piss him off!" The younger Uchiha jumps to his feet, "Oh I've got to see that."

"Make sure you catch his face with your sharingan if you really want this to be worth it." Tobirama waves him off, and Hashirama has to take a step back to give Izuna the space to bolt past.

(Madara's face was glorious, Izuna will report with glee later, but the yelp he'd made as he'd started sparking had really been something special)

Hashirama watches for a moment as his younger brother shakes his head and returns to work, as though covering Madara with flammable glitter was just an expected part of his day.

"A prank, otouto?" He steps forward to lean on Tobirama's desk, making sure to keep his voice light and non-accusatory. "Honestly, I didn't think you had it in you."

For some reason, Tobirama looks up at him as though he's the one being confusing.

"What do you mean?" He says, "I used to…" With his expression still so unusually open, Hashirama can see melancholy slip over the amusement, "Ah. I suppose you always blamed Kawarama for those things, didn't you?"

And...Oh. There's the familiar ache in his chest. Hashirama didn't expect to remember, today, how one of Kawarama's biggest joys had been to play pranks. He hadn't known Tobirama had ever gotten involved -- had always assumed his most straight laced little brother would have nothing to do with such things. But then, that would have been the perfect cover, and he'd been so close with Kawarama that he must have been dragged into a scheme or two, at least.

How was he still discovering all these years later, things that he'd lost when his brothers had died -- oh and this one was worse, because it was something Tobirama had lost that Hashirama hadn't even known was there to lose. Tobirama was the last family he had left, and yet so often, Hashirama was reminded how little he knew him at all.

But today, somehow, for some reason, a little part of him revealed itself again, even if it had come at the cost of a little bit of Madara's dignity. It should be a happy occasion, and so Hashirama doesn't go digging for answers.

Well, at least not unhappy answers -- after a moment he blinks and stands up straight.

"Tobirama." He says, "Tell me you're not the one who hid razor wire in my hairbrush."

People still taunted him with the bowl cut he'd given himself to hide what had happened to this day.

Beside him, Tobirama goes very still.

"Well, Anija." he says after a moment, "I don't want to lie to you."

And promptly disappears to some hirashin marker out of Hashirama's reach.

Perhaps of everything that's happened today, the most unexpected of all is how Hashirama has now found himself alone in the tower in the middle of the workday. He shakes his head with a chuckle, and just... Takes a moment.

No, he doesn't think he'd regret making this village for anything.

The dirt is cold under his fingers, but that's not the only thing making Tobirama hesitate to start digging.

He knows that his jutsu works -- he would never use anything on his brothers without rigorous testing. The animals he'd brought back had all behaved as they should. The man had been… Confused. But he'd reported that he felt no pain or fatigue

He hadn't even realize he'd died, had thought Tobirama had miraculously healed him. But then, his death had been fresh.

It's been much longer for Kawarama and Itama.

'Are you at peace, now?' He wonders, and not for the first time, 'Do you finally have a chance to rest?'

For days his chest has been heavy with uncertainty, though he knows better than to let that show by now.

He has the chance to have his brothers back, and he's not exited. He's terrified.

Is it pure selfishness for him to bring his baby brothers back from whatever peace they have in the afterlife and into the world that hurt them so badly? Would they understand why he did it? Would they forgive him?

He isn't sure.

Tobirama knows by now, that his older brother is not wiser than him in all, or even most things. But when it comes to people's hearts there is no one who's judgement he trusts more.

He wants his brothers back. He wants this awful, terrible decision he's created for himself to be taken out of his hands. He goes to Hashirama.

It's only a few minutes after sunrise when he reaches the main house and at this hour Hashirama will be rising and making his morning tea.

Tobirama almost considers waiting to have this conversation in the clan head's office. It's easier there, to fall into a role, to separate himself from what he's done. But this isn't about clan, this is about family, so he smooths out his clothes as best he can and pads across the floor to join his brother across from the chabudai.

Hashirama smiles at him, delighted and surprised at his presence before taking in the state in which he's arrived and sighing.

"Ah, trouble sleeping last night, otouto?"

"Yes." Tobirama says, because if it's obvious enough to be seen there's no point in denying it to Hashirama. He takes as steadying of a breath as he can without revealing his unease, and reaches for the scroll "I… Have a new justu."

He sets it on the table and doesn't let his fingers twitch as Hashirama rolls it open. It's not all his notes, but it's everything he needs to perform what he's created.

It's not enough for Hashirama to understand it, though, at least not at a glance. His older brother squints and brings the scroll closer to his face, and before he can make a comment about the cramped handwriting Tobirama blurts out, "It can bring back the dead."

Hashirama drops the scroll as if it's burned him, whipping his head up to look at him with wide eyes.

He looks… Horrified, and maybe that answers his question already, but something in his stomach twists and Tobirama wants to… He doesn't know, defend himself at least, so he says, "Those brought back don't feel any pain --"

"No." Says Hashirama and that’s -- that's Hashirama at his most serious, every bit of playfulness gone, the God of Shiobi, "Tobirama, you are never to use this justsu. Don't work on it anymore, don't talk about it to anyone. It is forbidden. Do you understand?"

"Not --" Not even twice? Is what he wants to ask, but Hashirama cuts him off with, "Never. Do you understand, Tobirama?"

He lets out a slow breath.

It was wrong, after all. He's not sure if he feels relived or disappointed or just… Empty.

"I understand." He says. Keeps his eyes down. Misses the way Hashirama looks like he doesn't quite believe him.

It's not taboo, exactly, to ask an Uchiha how they awoke their sharingan for exactly, but it is rude.

They'll tell you if they want you to know, that's the phrase mothers tell their children, that outsiders tell each other when they're trying to figure out how not to offend. It's a good rule of thumb, when the reasons why are so often traumatic.

Some people, though, proudly repeat the stories of how they woke up their eyes with sheer determination, used them to do something heroic.

Hikaku has never told his story, and he never will, because in of a clan full of tragedies and dramatic tales, his is more than a little embarrassing.

It was because of a cat.

It's a classic story, maybe a little cliched, but he'd been walking home from the training grounds -- he'd been exhausted, had a bandage on his hand from where he'd scrached it with a kunai, and when he'd heard the laughter, he was going to ignore it and keep walking.

But then it was followed by a hiss and a yowl and he'd turned to follow it.

There were three older boys, laughing and chatting and practicing throwing kunai at a cat that they'd had pinned against the wall.

(With the perfect memory of them that he has, Hikaku knows that the kids can't have been much older than him, but back then it'd felt like they were so much bigger.)

He remembers thinking that they were being cruel, that it was unfair and pointless to pick on something that couldn't defend itself like that. Remembers demanding that they stop, remembers that they laughed and taunted him and asked why didn't he make them. And he'd known that he couldn't, had already started to learn how important it was that shinobi pick the right moment to strike, and this wasn't it.

He remembers the way one of them had thrown their kunai, remembers how he knew it was going to fly true. And he remembers, in perfect, red shaded clarity, how he'd thought it was moving slow enough for him to deflect. So he had.

The other boys hadn't known it was the first time he'd activated his sharingan, they'd only cared that he'd ruined their fun, which meant their remaining knives were aimed at him.

Also easily deflected. And with him between the threat and itself the cat bolted. Had Hikaku been braver, he would have stayed and fought, but he was a kid who was outnumbered and overwhelmed and in training to be a shinobi, so he bolted, too. Ran until he got back home, in front of witnesses that it would be stupid to hurt him in front of.

(The boys are dead now, all three of them gone in different battles. And whenever he remembers them Hikaku can't help but think of that as pointless, too.)

He'd looked for the cat for days, after that, and when he'd found it, it had been limping -- a crusted over old wound on its flank. And he'd wanted to help, but when he tried he'd earned a second scratch on his hand before the cat bolted and he couldn't find it again.

It was just a cat, he'd remind himself for years after the fact. An animal, one that he couldn't expect to care about him in return. It was also a first lesson, he'd decide later, on how to give someone everything and expect nothing back.

When his legs give out for the fifth time, Hashirama isn't able to force himself up again.

To say chichiue had been unhappy with what had happened at the Naka River would be an understatement. Hashirama had kept his head bowed through a long, long lecture, insisted over and over that he hadn't known because ignorance might be the only thing that could save him.

Punishment has been brutal, regardless. He's been taking his smaller than usual meals alone in his room, and even those have been more sparse than usual, because every waking has been consumed with ceaseless training.

"When you see that boy on the battlefield, you'll kill him."

Hashirama shudders and turns his face into the dirt. He won't, and that will probably end up worse for him than this, but that still isn't enough to make him willing to do it.

(Madara was like him. Madara wanted peace. Peace could mean that no one would be forced to do something like this ever again).

For the moment, though, Hashirama can't get his legs to cooperate. Today he'd been training his mokuton ('until you have enough wood to rebuild the whole compound twice over'), and he'd tried, he always tries, but he's never, not in his life, been this low on chakra before. The lack of it makes him feel dizzy and nauseous and cold, seems to amplify all the aches and pains of the last few days. He'd pulled a splinter out of his hand earlier and the spot has been aching and stinging for hours when normally he would have forgotten about it minutes after it happened.

He's exhausted and miserable, and his eyes are burning with unshed tears because letting them fall will mean he probably doesn’t even get to eat tonight. He's already going to be in trouble enough for falling again--

"Boy, you better not be taking a break." Butsuma's voice calls, far away at first but getting louder, "You're not even halfway done."

Hashirama's voice catches in his parched throat -- he's got no idea whether it'll be safer for him to admit the truth or make an excuse. Before he can decide, his brother's voice chimes in, and oh he hadn't even known Tobirama was here.

"Chichiue, he's low on chakra." It's said so matter-of-fact that Hashirama can't tell if he's being judged for it or not. But he's really not the happiest with Tobirama right now and in a poor mood anyways so all he feels at the comment Is a spike of anger harsh enough to send the tears he's been hold back spilling down his cheeks.

Why did you have to tell him that? Why do you keep ruining things?

Butsuma clicks his tongue.

"Shameful. But low chakra is not a reason for him to be on his back. Or crying."

Hashirama can only see the purpling sky, but he can hear the sneer in his father's voice.

"I just don't know what to do with you, boy. Maybe a real punishment is in order. To start with, no meals until you're done with this."

Hashirama stifles a sob. Fuck, but he's hungry. There's a heavy sigh from his father, but it's Tobirama's voice he hears next.

"Chichiue, is that… Wise?"

There is a heavy pause; Hashirama musters the strength to lift his head and is treated to a sight he wishes wasn't familiar. Tobirama's thin back is between him and Butsuma. His arms are crossed this time, but Hashirama knows his intent. His little brother trying to protect him, again.

This is your fault in the first place! A wounded part of his heart screams, but already he feels guilty for the thought.

(How was Tobirama to know who he'd been meeting? How was he to do anything but worry when his brother kept disappearing so soon after their last one had died? How was he to say no to an order?)

"It's just --" Tobirama's voice is uncharacteristically hesitant, "Harsh training is well and good, but if he's not able to recover his strength then he won't be able to act should an emergency happen. Right now, he'd be useless in a battle."

There is a weighty silence, one that stretches on long enough that it makes Hashirama's heart flutter with hope -- maybe Tobirama's words have managed to convince him, again.

"I have no intention of letting him go to battle until I'm sure he's learned his lesson." Another pause, and then "…You're more troublesome than you let on, boy."

Those words aren't meant for Hashirama. Tobirama stiffens just enough to be perceptible, and if Hashirama can see it in the state that he's in, there's no way that Butsuma missed it.

"That's what I thought. Tobirama, on your knees. I think you both need to understand something."

Tobirama hesitates for the barest moment before sinking down, knowing better than to protest. Hashirama struggles to roll over enough to see what is happening. To see how Butsuma has knelt down across from Tobirama to grab his chin in a bruising grip, how Tobirama's hands are fisted tight in the fabric of his pants.

"When I teach you that shinobi aren't to show emotions, what I mean is that they can't let their feelings affect their decisions." He forces Tobirama's face to turn, to meet Hashirama's wide eyes with his own, "But if you had taken that lesson to heart you would have seen how much better off your brother would be if he understood. You may hide what you feel, but I can see now how much you let those feelings rule you. You'd rather spare your brother pain than have him grow stronger and survive."

Butsuma reaches for a pouch and with his other hand he draws out a kunai. Tobirama doesn't struggle as it's pushed to his cheek, but instead goes very, very still. Hashirama's stomach swoops -- he wouldn't, he wouldn't--

"And you, Hashirama… I don't know what to do about that bleeding heart of yours at this point. But you need to understand, if you're going to open yourself up to whatever poor kid with a sob story you meet in the woods you need to be strong enough to make certain that it can't hurt you."

He squeezes Tobirama's face, applies pressure. The kunai bites deep into his brother's cheek. Tobirama jerks in his hold, squeezes his eyes shut, and lets out an awful, warbled whine before cutting himself off.

"Stop." Begs Hashirama, voice breaking, He tries to push himself up only for his arms to give out from under him, "Stop it. Stop it!"

"If you want it to stop --" Says Butsuma, forcing Tobirama's face to turn the other direction and digging the kunai in to the other side, a perfect match to the first cut "-- Then stop me. Get strong enough to stop me."

But Hashirama can't stand up. There's no sudden burst of strength -- he used that up ages ago. All he can manage is to drag himself a few inches forward through the dirt, fingers just able to reach where a spot of blood (his brother's blood!) has been flung to the ground.

"Please." His voice is hoarse, "Please, I understand. Please stop."

The look Butsuma levels at him is cold, a frown that says he doesn't believe him.

He tilts up Tobirama's head, cuts a final slash into his chin, before letting go. Standing up, stepping back, uncaring of the way his son has dropped to the ground like a puppet with it's strings cut.

"Guard your heart or grow strong enough to keep it safe, Hashirama. Those are your options."

He turns, leaves them alone on the training field under a rapidly darkening sky. It's only when he's out of sight that Hashirama feels sensation return to his limbs, feels just how hard his heart is pounding. Hears the near silent drip of blood onto the ground from Tobirama --

His breath hitches but he can't lose his head yet, his brother, his last baby brother, still hasn't moved.

"Tobi." He calls roughly, but there's still no reaction, "Tobi. Tobirama!"

When he finally pulls himself close enough he reaches for his brother's hand, ignores the way it's trembling and sticky with blood (so much blood but it's fine, Tobirama has to be fine, head wounds just bleed more than most--). Only when he touches Tobirama does his brother react. Jerks away from him -- finally looks at him, but it's with eyes that are completely empty.

"We can't." Tobirama's voice is quiet. It cracks, but his little brother does not cry, even now, "He's waiting to see what we'll do."

Waiting to see if they'll turn to each other, he means.

"Tobi…" He calls, as Tobirama mechanically pushes himself to his feet, pulls his hand away. He wants to do something, needs to do something, to make this even a little okay, but he knows Tobirama is right, that if they try to help each other now the lesson will only repeat itself.

Tobirama shakes his head, walks towards the main house with his head ducked low, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

And Hashirama still can't force himself onto his feet to follow.

He falls back onto the dirt, throat tight. A few more tears spill out, but not many. He doesn't have anything left in him to cry.

He feels -- empty. He thinks he should be feeling more but all that's left behind his breastbone is hollow. And if he feels like this, than Tobirama must be…

He broke something, Hashirama thinks hysterically, He broke something in me and I think he might have broken Tobirama, too.

There's a bile building in the back of his throat as the realizations hit him. He can't let that happen again, won't survive if it does.

If you want to stop me, then stop me. Get strong enough to stop me.

That had been the lesson. Maybe Hashirama can finally learn this one.

The determination to build peace and a village had made him feel warm. The determination to do this settles like lead in his guts.

If any of his dreams are going to happen, he needs to get strong enough to stop his father.

Tobirama sighed as Hashirama smoothed out his haori for what must have been the tenth time.

"I had always known I was going to marry for political reasons, anija. If it's in service of peace, it's as good as we could have hoped for."

Hashirama looked no less distressed at his reassurance, though Tobirama wasn't entirely sure why. It may have been that he was worried over his brother -- which was sweet, if tiresome -- or it may be that this peace wasn't coming about at all how he dreamed it.

It may be that he knew, or could guess, Tobirama's own dim view on the subject. That this peace would not last -- wasn't supposed to last.

Likely, he didn't believe that Tobirama himself wouldn't be it's downfall, which stung but was not an unfounded concern. If he was attacked, he would defend himself, and that would ruin everything just the same as if he had been out to break peace himself.

(He does want peace though, truly. He'd found it hard to believe in after their brothers had died, had often felt it pointless if they weren't there to enjoy it, but buried beneath those old walls and hurts the desire was still there. And now that peace was here, tenuous as it was, he would keep it.

Or at least he would try his best.)

"I wouldn't have made you" Hashirama protested, now having moved on to smoothing down his hair again. Tobirama knew he wouldn’t have, knew that in any other circumstance had he protested a match, Hashirama would have called it off. But this was hardly a normal circumstance.

At his silence, Hashirama sighed, "I'd always kind of hoped… Maybe you were some kind of secret romantic. I mean, with your soft spot for kids…"

Tobirama snorted. He would hardly call himself romantic, but he'd hoped whoever he married would be able to respect him. Maybe even come to understand him.

Izuna may be able to provide the former -- he wouldn't have survived against him so long on the battlefield if he didn't -- but any dreams he may have harbored for the latter were well and truly dead the moment the daimyo made his decision.

"Well, you know there's still a chance…" Hashirama dithered on, "After all, my marriage with Mito was arranged!"

As if he had forgotten. His brother smiled at him, brittle as it had been since this marriage was ordained.

"Who knows what the future may bring." Tobirama said flatly, though it seemed to appease his Hashirama well enough, as he finally pulled his hands back to himself.

Let Hashirama hope for the future if that helped him. Tobirama will look to the present. And right now, his goal is to make certain he and his clan get out of this nonsense alive.

The moment Tobirama enters the room, Madara goes stiff. At a glance nothing seems wrong, and Tobirama pauses, seemingly as surprised at the reaction as Hikaku is.

A closer look shows Madara's pupils have blown wide, which means this is probably one of those instinctual things -- what's caused it though, Hikaku isn't sure. A deep breath of his own mostly gets him a nose full of Madara's overpowering campfire scent; if Tobirama's is doing anything different he doesn't know the man well enough to tell.

It's… A little saltier, maybe? Nothing so extreme that he couldn't chalk it up to a shift in emotion --

"You're in pre-heat." Madara blurts.

Oh. Well then.

The exclamation seems to have shocked all three of them. Tobirama's lips part for a moment before his expression tightens.

"Apologies." He says, "It's earlier than usual. I did not realize."

They probably should have expected this, all things considered. Tobirama may not be a typical omega, but spending so much time in the house with the alpha he had recently married and consummated with would wreak havoc on anyone's biology. Or so Hikaku has heard.

"Well, what do you -- I mean --" Madara sputters, color rising to his cheeks, "How do you want to handle it?"

There's a brief flash of surprise across Tobirama's face, one so small it would likely be missed by someone who's not an Uchiha, but it's there. Almost like he hadn't been expected to be asked.

"…I understand that I'm expected to bear your heirs." Tobirama says at length, "But if it is an option, I would like to wait to do so until after peace is more stable."

Until he knows they won't be born right back into another war. Madara nods, lets out a slow breath of his own.

(Breaths in through his mouth, Hikaku notices, but Tobirama's scent still seems so mild, to him).

"In that case, I think it's best if Hikaku takes care of you." Madara grunts.

Hikaku feels his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and wonders if Tobirama is looking at his clan head with a matching look of incredulity. What Madara's asking for isn't unheard of, but for a newly mated couple's first heat…

"I'm not ordering you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable." Madara clarifies, voice rising in pitch. His face has gone a lovely puce, but he doesn't take it back. "Either of you. Use your best judgement! But if we're trying to avoid… That, it shouldn't be me."

"…Right." Hikaku says, suddenly feeling dizzy. He's not actually ever experienced an unrelated omega's heat firsthand. He's heard plenty of stories, but all they're serving to do in this moment is leave him feeling woefully under-prepared.

But. He thinks with sudden clarity. Tobirama is hardly the kind of omega you hear about in stories. In cases like these it's best to just…

"Well then. Tobirama-san." He clears his throat and tries to fight off his own rising blush, "How do you want me to help?"

There's the twitch of an eyebrow again, the barely there surprise.

"Boil some water for tea and bring it to my rooms." Tobirama says after a moment. He hesitates where he stands in the doorway, and the silence stretches so long that it must mean that he wants to say something more, but some pride or embarrassment is stopping him.

Hikaku has already given in that he's not going to get out of this situation (this entire arrangement, really) with his pride unscathed, so he forces a smile and asks, "Would it be helpful for me to bring something that smells…" He nods at Madara, who is all but hiding behind his hair at this point. Like an alpha, he means, like Madara, like your mate.

Tobirama tilts his head in consideration, no trace of whatever had been stopping him, which meant this likely wasn't what he had been considering at all.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt." He says.

Madara gapes open mouthed for a moment before ducking his head.

"Okay. I can just…" Madara pulls off his haori, looks at it pensively for a moment before rubbing the fabric on his face and neck. Hikaku politely pretends not to notice the way Tobirama is watching with rapt attention.

Seeing as how Tobirama is across the room and how Madara appears to be entirely resistant to getting any closer, he hands the garment to Hikaku, who fights to keep himself from making a face as he folds it over his arm.

It would be a wildly inappropriate time to laugh. Still, the urge is there.

Tobirama clears his throat.

"That should be fine." He says, "You may also wish to bring a book."

He turns and flees back to his room before Hikaku can ask for clarification.

With the omega gone, Hikaku lets himself sigh. Quiet enough that it doesn't draw Madara's attention away from where Tobirama just left. He looks like he's about to vibrate out of his skin.

"…Madara-sama." He says tentatively, and those dark eyes snap to him, "Do you think you could handle a patrol, right now?"

It's one of the best ways he knows to help Madara get his instincts under control; letting him guard his territory and deem it safe. At the suggestion, his clan head all but shoots to his feet.

"Yes." Madara says, and now that the mortification has passed his voice is so low it's almost a growl. "I'm going to -- yes."

Hikaku looks down. He has plenty of reason to be blushing right now so if he is, it hardly matters. He swallows hard and reminds himself that this isn't about him.

Madara takes a step towards the front door, then another before pausing.

"…Good luck."

Madara, too, disappears out the door before Hikaku can formulate a response. With him gone, too, Hikaku groans and thumps his head against the table.

This is what you signed up for. He reminds himself, you knew this could happen.

The possibility had been there yes, but reality has him feeling so nervous that his hands are shaking when he forces himself up to boil the water for tea.

Hikaku scowls at them. Trained shinobi, and here he is getting shaky over the possibility of helping an omega through their heat. Tobirama is the omega in question, so he supposes some slack could be allowed, but still.

He only has until the water is boiling to dither around, then with another deep breath (and the room still smells mostly like Madara even now) he walks to where Tobirama is waiting for him, tea tray balanced on one hand, Madara's haori and book of poetry under the other arm-- which he's still got no clue about, but Tobirama suggested it and he's just --

He's just… Here to help, that's all.

Hands full as they are, it's awkward to rap on the door, but Hikaku manages, and also to maneuver it open when after a moment Tobirama calls, "Come in."

The pale omega is sitting cross legged on the floor, a series of tins open in front of him, the contents of which he appears to have meticulously measured and mixed together.

"You can set the tray here." Tobirama gestures to the floor in front of him, "And-- hm. You may as well put on the haori."

Hikaku does not allow himself to make a sound of surprise at that, but he knows his face must be burning scarlet.

He really, really hopes that Tobirama isn't going to ask him to pretend to be Madara. Still, he pulls the over-large garment over his shoulders and shakily falls to his knees to sit across from Tobirama.

This is not how he'd imagined he might end up with Madara's clothes on.

The herbal smell of whatever mixture Tobirama has put together is strong; it too almost overpowers the sea-salt scent of what must be the omega's pre-heat smell, and it only grows stronger when he opens the teapot and dumps it in to steep.

"I would offer you some, but I can reliably inform you that it tastes abysmal." Tobirama says without inflection. Hikaku blinks.

"I take it that it's medicinal?"

Tobirama nods.

"It helps shorten heats and lessens their symptoms, among other things."

Oh, well that's…

Hikaku feels some of the weight leave his shoulders. However this goes, he can at least take some relief in knowing it won't be as bad as it could have been.

They sit in silence as the tea steeps, and then as Tobirama pours a cup without giving Hikaku the chance to do it for him. That taken from him, all Hikaku can do is observe and try not to fidget.

Now that he's noticed it, that ocean-breeze smell is really starting to fill the room. It's not a bad scent, he decides. Objectively speaking.

When Tobirama finishes, he sets down his cup without making a sound. Hikaku forces himself to breath, to not allow himself to grow tense again, because surely that will make everything that comes next more difficult.

"My heats are usually quite mild." Tobirama says at last, "With this, I'm often able to ignore them entirely, except for how they cause others to behave. Though the fact that its come early may hint that something has changed, I don’t anticipate anything too extreme."

"…Okay." Says Hikaku, throat dry, "How do you want me to help?"

Tobirama blinks, and now that he's looking, Hikaku can see the way all of Tobirama's movement has gone just a little sluggish.

"Just…Hm. Sit on the futon, for now."

Mechanically, Hikaku nods and moves to sit at the head of the futon. It's got a few extra blankets on it, he notes, but not the huge amount he's heard to expect from a nest. Maybe this is all a utilitarian man like Tobirama needs?

Tobirama sits next to him after a moment, purses his lips.

"… Stay like that." He says.

So Hikaku does -- stays frozen in place as Tobirama all but drapes himself over Hikaku's lap, loops one arm loosely around his waist, buries his face near his side where the fabric of the haori is bunched together. The omega shifts. Gets comfortable. Sighs.

"Is it true that you can smell me in heat and not feel the instinct to do anything?"

"…Yes." Says Hikaku. He thinks so, at least, because he's still not entirely certain what people mean when they talk about having instincts like that, "When I smell you I just… Think it smells nice. That's all."

"…That seems useful." Comes Tobirama's voice after what feels like an age, muffled by fabric "To not be ruled by your urges."

"It has it's drawbacks." Hikaku admits, "I can't tell what a stranger is feeling through scent alone, and some social cues pass me by entirely."

There's a reason betas don't often enter the world of politics, after all. Entire conversations can be had just through scent.

"Hm." Is all Tobirama has to say in response to that, and then, "If you wish to pet my hair, feel free. Otherwise, I am going to nap."

"Oh." Says Hikaku blankly. "Alright."

For the moment, at least, there is no grinding or biting or leaking like Hikaku has heard often accompanies heats. Maybe if he doesn't draw attention to it, there wont be.

This, he supposes, is why Tobirama recommended him to bring a book. Which does come in handy, because the man is apparently content to lay like that for hours.

After the first, Hikaku works up the courage to run his hand through Tobirama's hair, just once. It's soft, and the man doesn't respond at all because he is well and truly asleep.

After the second, Hikaku's legs start to cramp, but he remains still. This is well within the realm discomforts he's to handle as a shinobi, after all, and less than he thought he'd be feeling today.

After the third, Tobirama rolls off of his legs and blinks up blearily at him.

"If you're invested in helping, you could consider telling Madara to stop stalking back and forth outside."

Madara was --?

Well, he had been doing it unobtrusively to anyone but one of the best sensors in the world. To have done a patrol of Uchiha lands in three hours, though… Hikaku hadn't thought him so eager to return.

He takes a moment to stretch out his legs before making for the door. When he slides it open, he's immediately hit by the smell -- not just a campfire but spicy, now too.

Hikaku hadn't recognized the change in Tobirama's smell, but he's known Madara long enough to know what he smells like going into a rut.

They should have predicted this, too. After all, his new mate had gone into heat right in front of him. Personal feelings for each other aside, it would have been more surprising if this didn't happen.

Madara freezes from where he's clearly been pacing the corridor, eyes zeroing first on Hikaku, and then on the room behind him.

This, at least, Hikaku has an idea of how to deal with.

"Hold on a moment." He says. Closes the door.

"Tobirama-san." He turns to the omega, who has been watching the proceedings with half lidded eyes, "May I borrow one of the blankets you've been lying on?"

"Mm?" Tobirama hums, "Ah. I see."

When he pulls the blanket out from under himself, Tobirama, too, nuzzles his face into it for a moment, before holding it out to Hikaku. He's decidedly less ashamed about the whole ordeal, though whether that's because he's currently in heat, or just because he's a shameless man, Hikaku can't say.

"Thank you." He says, and doesn't bother folding the blanket, because the moment he opens the door again and holds it out to Madara, the man snatches it from him, eyes blown wide.

"Do you need anything else, Madara-sama?" He asks.

Madara doesn't even seem capable of mustering words right now. He shakes his head, and retreats down the hallway without ever turning his back to Hikaku. When he finally ducks into his own room, all Hikaku can do is shake his head and fight back a fond smile.

It's a bit like introducing two cats to each other, he thinks dryly. But it can be done.

No good sense has brought them here, just Madara's grief and rage.

Hikaku cant begrudge the man after what's happened to his brother, but in this moment he wishes it had manifested another way. A battle with the Senju is nothing new, but in all of his perfect memory he can never quite remember things being this chaotic.

Hashirama is tearing up the landscape just to match Madara, who in his fury is trying to break past his usual opponent to go after Tobirama.

Tobirama, who without Izuna there to stop him, is currently beating Hikaku to a pulp.

This guy is on another level, he thinks breathlessly. He'd always known that, in theory. Izuna had been one of the best, after all, and Tobirama had always matched him -- until he surpassed him.

In practice, the only thing keeping Hikaku alive is the sharigan's ability to predict movements and whatever it is that's stopping the Senju from using the technique it was that injured Izuna.

He stopped trying to block the water dragons after the first and has gone from disrupting their paths with boulders to trying to shred them apart with pebbles as he's grown more exhausted. It hardly slows them, but it's kept him from being completely swept away so far, and if that keeps him alive than that's what he'll continue to do.

It's what he's just done (leaving him soaked, but still on his feet) when Tobirama pauses, landing on a high branch a decent enough distance away that Hikaku might even have a chance to avoid whatever he throws at him.

From his perch, Tobirama tilts his head, looking over Hikaku with a considering gaze.

"You have excellent chakra control." He says after a moment, "Even better than Izuna's."

Hikaku blinks, but he does not un-tense, remembering Izuna's many rants about how Tobirama liked to play games with his opponents -- to let them think they’ve won, until they haven't.

Hikaku does not think himself anywhere close to winning, but every moment they aren't actively fighting is another moment he hasn't died.

"It's hardly worth comparing us." Hikaku frowns, "And pointless. He still lives."

"For how long? Days? If that." Tobirama purses his lips, a tiny thing that Hikaku would have missed from this distance if his sharingan weren't still activated, "No, I don't think there's much time left at all."

Hikaku has no idea how he knows that, but he isn't wrong. The gut wound he'd left Izuna with has been festering. He wouldn't be surprised to return to the compound to find him dead already. What kind of sick taunt is this?

As he talks, Tobirama starts making hand signs -- a long string of them, and not a jutsu Hikaku recognizes. His breath catches and he readies himself, prepared to run from whatever devastation this is going to bring -- but when he finishes the only result he can see is a pale green glow coating the Senju's palm.

Tobirama raises his hand, runs his fingers across a cut on his cheek where a bit of rubble had caught him. When he draws it away, the wound is gone and only a smudge of blood is left behind.

A technique that can heal injuries with chakra. When he realizes what he's just been allowed to see -- what he's just been allowed to copy with his sharingan -- Hikaku nearly staggers under the weight of it.

His next thought is I'm going to die. Because surely, surely, there's no way Tobirama Senju is going to allow him to walk away with the knowledge he's just been given.

There's a piercing two toned whistle, a bright white flare high in the sky. Retreat called, on both sides. And contrary to everything, to all rational thought, Tobirama does not leap forward, does not cut his throat or snap his spine, but turns, gives Hikaku a long glance, and follows the rest of the Senju in their retreat.

It takes Hikaku a long moment to unfreeze. To go regroup with his clan, mind whirling.

It must be a trap, but what use is there to lay one for a man already as good as dead? If this was some ploy to give false hope, then why pick him, when he could just keep what had just happened to himself?

His clansmen are all silent as they return from the battlefield, Hikaku most of all.

I don't think there's much time left at all. That's what Tobirama had said. But time for what?

Hikaku is not a fool -- he does not go try to use what he's learned on Izuna, or even on himself and the many cuts and bruises he's come home with. When everyone else goes off to see their own hurts treated, to see their loved ones, when Madara goes straight from the battlefield to go sit by his brother, Hikaku slips away from them all to try something else.

The main house has a koi pond, and though the landscaping leaves much to be desired after years of Madara and Izuna using it for their sibling rivalries, it still holds fish. Hikaku mentally apologizes to the late Lady Uchiha as he grabs a koi by the tail and yanks it out of the water, but he thinks, if this works, he will be forgiven.

He waits for the fish to stop thrashing before he makes a cut down it's side; nothing too deep, nothing it couldn't survive on it's own. He lets his sharingan spin, calls up the memory of the hand signs, the way Tobirama's chakra had been stripped of its element, how it had condensed thicker than he'd ever seen.

It only takes him a few moments to understand why Tobirama had made that comment on his chakra control. It's difficult -- more than any technique he's ever tried. But… Not impossible.

If he had more time, he thinks he'd be able to get it to work. As it is…

Hikaku is not optimistic. But he will try.

He lets the koi back into the pool as, for the first two hours he focuses only on the chakra -- cleaning it, and folding it in on itself over and over and over again. He gets his hands to glow green once before he pulls the koi out of the water again.

There's a delicate balance, he learns. He very nearly overloads the fish's chakra coils before he understands what he's meant to be doing. The information the jutsu gives him is nearly incomprehensible, but there's a feeling to it. The cut feels like metal in the back of his mouth -- and it wants to heal, its already trying to, all he has to do is help it along. To move his chakra through the bits that make his ears ring (and nowhere else, or the chakra will burn healthy flesh) until they've knitted themselves together again.

He thinks he's starting to get the idea when he released the koi back into the water -- cut gone but side covered in chakra burns. The chakra is giving a place for the scar tissue to form sooner than it should, or something like it. Hikaku shakes his head. It's interesting, but the theory will come later when he's got less important things to think about.

A chill has fallen as the sun has gone down, but Hikaku finds himself wiping his brow. If he could, he would rest, would at least find another animal to test on, but… Time.

He's not ready for Izuna quite yet, though. Hikaku goes home, throws together the most nourishing food he can in as short a time as he can manage -- he had been meaning to save the dried meat for a special day, not an emergency, but needs must -- and tries to heal himself.

It's easier and harder than the fish; humans being the more complicated animal. Hikaku ends up getting a lot more feedback he has no idea what to do with -- but he can tell when he's coming close to hurting himself, too. That probably won't be true, when he tries this on another person. To avoid that he needs more control, and more than anything else, a hell of a lot more practice.

By midnight, Hikaku has managed to heal a bruise that had been starting to bloom on his thigh. Nothing, compared to the wound Izuna has, but it's progress.

He feels dizzy when he tries to stand up, to walk over to the main house. Hikaku sighs to himself, but it seems like his body has made up its mind for him. Sleep is the best thing for stamina, after all, and he's not certain how much longer his control will hold out without rest.

If he's too late, he still knows he's tried his hardest.

He's asleep nearly as fast as his head touches the futon, for all of four hours before anxiety has him rising right before the sun.

Well, he's a shinobi, he's done more on less. He eats old rice, drinks tea that's hardly had time to steep, makes tracks through the dew as he heads towards the main house in the pre-dawn twilight to try and perform a miracle.

Madara is awake when he steps inside -- hunched over, face in his hands, looking like he's aged about ten years since Hikaku saw him last. For a heart-stopping moment, Hikaku fears that he took too long after all.

"He asked me to take his eyes." Madara says in lieu of a greeting, voice muffled.

Hikaku grimaces. The mangekyo is as horrifying as it is powerful, but if Izuna is asking that, it means…

He's given up. He's conceded that he's going to die. Hikaku has even less time than he'd thought.

"…Is he awake right now?" Hikaku feels breathless; sounds it too, but Madara doesn't notice.

"He was when I left him." Replies Madara, voice rough. For him to have left Izuna's side while his brother was still awake, they must have argued. Probably about the eyes.

Hikaku nods, turns to walk to the room where Izuna's sickbed is without asking any more. He won't explain, not yet, won't give false hope. Explanations can come after, right now he's just got to try.

Izuna doesn't react to his entrance -- he's still breathing, but asleep or unconscious. Just as well, Hikaku thinks wryly, pulling the chair he knows Madara has spent hours in to give him better access to the wound on Izuna's side, He'll be less distracting like this.

He's dressed this wound before, and when Hikaku pulls the bandages off its still as ugly as it was the day Izuna got it, the blood clotted and dark. It doesn't smell, at least. Hikaku has no idea how this jutsu handles infections.

One bracing breath is all he allows himself before making the handsigns, pulling the chakra to his hands. It's easier after rest, but harder, for the nerves.

Izuna twitches as Hikaku places his hands over the wound, as the back of his throat fills with the taste of copper. His entire attention focuses down to his hands, to the skin and muscle under them, to threading his chakra back and forth and pulling things back to how they should be.

"H'kaku?" He hears after a while. Izuna's voice, but he doesn't look, even as the man goes tense beneath him. He seems to at least understand that whatever Hikaku is doing, it needs concentration.

It could only have been minutes, or it could have been days by the time Hikaku's chakra starts to waver. He dismisses the technique, not wanting to undo his work -- he hasn't done nearly as much as he'd wanted to but he thinks… He thinks he might have stopped the downward spiral, at least.

"Hikaku." Izuna's voice again. When he looks up, Hikaku's vision goes white with spots. He's sweating with exertion, he realizes, and now that he's dropped the jutsu his hands are shaking so badly he doesn't think he'll be able to form the hand signs again.

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder. When his vision finally stops spinning Madara and Izuna are both staring at him with wide eyes.

This is the most lucid he's seen Izuna in over a week.

"Hikaku." Madara is the one who speaks this time, sounding breathless, "What was that?"

 "I think…" Hikaku gasps, "That was Tobirama Senju's way of asking for peace."

Cool fingers pull away from Madara's temple and chakra with them; without it, his eyes return to aching, as they do almost every day now.

He opens his eyes to the sight of Tobirama frowning down at his notes.

Ask Madara even last year if he would have let Tobirama anywhere near his eyes and he would have laughed in your face and then probably killed you on top of it. That they were here now was due to what else but Hashirama's meddling -- a comment here and there revealing that he knew Madara's eyesight was failing, a reminder of his ability to heal. When he'd tried, the admission that this, he could not help, but that his brother was much better at fine details like eyes than him --

He'd put the thought in Madara's head, and Madara had rejected the idea every time he'd thought of it -- through every migraine, through every day where his eyes ached so badly he preferred not to open them. He would not let Hashirama's mad scientist of a younger brother anywhere near his eyes.

Until Izuna had noticed. Had started pressuring Madara into taking his eyes. Madara knew Izuna would get his way given enough time to manipulate, and he would not leave his brother to live blind.

"What if I find a way to fix them?" He'd exploded, "Will you drop it then?"

And that had left him with only one place to go.

Tobirama had not gloated, had agreed that the payment for curing his failing eyesight would be the information he learned doing it. Had even agreed that Madara could reject any question he asked without explanation.

Though really, the thing that had convinced Madara that he hadn't made the worst mistake in his life was, when he admitted the weakness of the Mangekyo, when Tobirama responded -- faintly bitter -- that all bloodline limits had their drawbacks.

(Madara did not ask after Hashirama. But he wondered).

So far, Tobirama has not done anything to hurt him. Had, on the very first day, said that he could repair at least some of the damage to his eyes but admitted that until he could understand the root cause it would likely degenerate the next time he used his sharingan.

"Not any worse than last time." Tobirama remarks, "So at least the reinforcements held. But you haven't used the advanced state of your doujutsu, have you?"

"No." Madara admits. And that was the rub -- the cause had been obvious. The Mangekyo forced in too much unrestrained chakra for even an Uchiha's well developed eye coils to handle, and the damage to the coils affected the body. Finding a solution that was acceptable was where things had stalled.

"Prolonged use could even start to affect the brain." Tobirama had said, flat and clinical, after the first time Madara had let him run a sweep of medical chakra through his eyes, "Though I suspect you would already be long blind by then."

Back then Madara had grit his teeth in a valiant effort to not attack the man in anger. Now, he recognizes that it was a simple statement of fact, nothing more. Whether or not Tobirama has plans to do anything with what he's learned Madara still isn't sure, but the man had promised to heal his eyes and apparently intends to keep it with same work ethic that he had used to help construct the village. His methods have been rigorous, sometimes exhausting, but there is no question on if he has been trying.

Which was to say that it was becoming clear, now that Madara has some idea on how to read the man, that Tobirama is just as frustrated with the lack of progress as he is. He doesn't show it by sighing or rubbing at his temples like Madara might, but by glaring at his notes and pressing down with his pen so hard that it might break.

"What, exactly, is the roadblock right now?" Madara still doesn't know if having the Senju speak his thoughts out loud helps or distracts, but in the end they're his eyes, and Tobirama always humors him when he asks.

This time, he has to take a long moment to pull his thoughts together.

"If it were just too much chakra, I think I could find a solution. There are techniques that temporarily increase the size of ones coils…"

Madara blinks, "The Akimichi?"

There had been some talk about Tobirama taking an Akimichi onto his team recently. Did that have something to do with him?

Tobirama finally looks up. He nods, but there's a unhappy tilt to his mouth.

"It allows for more chakra to pass through, but it makes the coils weaker. It's not a problem for the Akimichi since their chakra is so stable and their coils are more robust than most. For an Uchiha…" He looks away, gaze unfocused, "You could handle it normally, but the Mangekyo makes your chakra especially volatile."

Tobirama pauses for only a moment. One of the first things he'd asked had been the reason for the extra instability in chakra that happened when the sharingan was activated, and Madara had said he would not answer. To his credit, he hasn't asked again.

"…And every solution I've considered for reducing the volatility will likely also end up reducing the power in some way." Which was unacceptable, it went without saying.

A month ago Madara would never have volunteered this information, but he's tired -- of the constant ache, of the experiments, of Izuna behaving as though he would be fine if he were blind. Tobirama has won the information he'd asked for, by attrition, and by accident.

"Part of the instability comes from the technique itself." Madara admits, closing his eyes so as not to see Tobirama's sharp gaze snap to him (and that had been another odd thing -- Madara wasn't sure he had ever made so much eye contact with a non-clan member before) "And part of it comes from the fact that in order to activate it, we have to recall the memory that awoke the sharingan in the first place."

He keeps his eyes closed, so he does not know what expression Tobirama makes, only that the man's voice is unusually hesitant when he clarifies, "…Every time?"

"Not in full, but the emotions that come with it? Every time."

The riverbank, the determination to protect his family -- that memory was like an old friend to him.

He called up his Mangekyo less. That one still ached.

He has not woken up, and the healers said it was likely that he wouldn't before he passed.

Tajima had given as good as he'd gotten, and Madara prays that Butsuma Senju's death is been as long and agonizing as his father's has been. He reaches out, folds his hands over Izuna's, over the blade his little brother holds. The tremble in Izuna's hand is too small to be seen, but Madara can feel it as he wraps his fingers tight.

He does not comment on it. Just this once, such weakness can be forgiven.

If Tajima is only going to lie there unconscious and in pain until he expires, then there is only one thing that makes sense. If Madara and Izuna can grow more powerful from his death, then Madara knows with surety that it's what he would have wanted.

Izuna squeezes his eyes closed and takes a steadying breath before opening, meeting Madara's whirling sharingan with his own.

"Okay." His little brother breathes.

Their hands move together. The cut is quick and deep, but the blood still sprays over their hands, over their clothes. Tajima still wheezes a horrible sound, searching for a last breath, convulses when he can't.

They're shinobi, death is a thing that is at once close and impersonal, this --

This burns.

Every time.

"…I'm sorry." Says Tobirama, and Madara's eyes fly open. Because Tobirama Senju is a man who does not apologize, much less for things that have nothing to do with him.

The look on his face is unreadable, but it's not pity, Madara thinks.

"For what?" Madara wheezes, ears buzzing. He has no idea whether to be furious or not, no idea what to feel at all.

Tobirama raises an eyebrow, "The sharingan gives perfect memory, does it not? To have to recall such things every time…" He shakes his head, "Perhaps your clan is more sane than I ever gave you credit for."

There's so much unsaid in that statement that Madara will ruminate on later, but for now he thinks he sees where this is going and warns, "Messing with a sharingan user's memory is not only nearly impossible, but a taboo as well."

There have been plenty who have tried, who wanted the memories burned into their eyes out and gone. And clan record after clan record showed that, without fail, those who tried went insane. This was a line he would not allow Tobirama to cross.

"I suspected as much." Tobirama agrees easily, if not a little wry. "Fine. No memory manipulation. Then what about emotions?"

Kawarama awakens to arms tight around his chest and a gasping wheeze of "Kawa."

Tobirama is squeezing him tight enough to hurt, has his face buried between his shoulder blades. He's shaking, but Tobi never --

Something's wrong.

"Hey." He tries, voice still rough with sleep, "Hey, Tobi, it was a nightmare alright? I'm okay."

Tobirama's breath wavers, like he's trying to speak but he can't because he's…  Oh he's too close to tears which is…

Kawarama knows he's the only one Tobi is willing to cry in front of, but he also knows that he still hates it.

Tobirama doesn't let go, and all Kawarama can think to do is grab at Tobirama's hands and keep his breathing steady and hope that he follows.

He's starting to get there when the door slides open and Hashirama steps in, eyes wide and Itama bundled up against his chest. He's crying too, which is not so unusual for him, except that he's being quiet about it. Wordlessly, he crosses the room, kneels down on the futon, and gathers them both into his arms too, much as he can.

This is just starting to get scary.

"Onii-san? Did something happen?"

Hashirama laughs, quiet and watery.

"No. Just had a bad dream, was all."

"Oh." Breathes Kawarama, easier now, because Tobirama seems to have relaxed a little now that they're all together, "You too?"

A hand pets through his hair, but Hashirama only answers with a hum.

Thing is, if that had been where the weirdness stopped, Kawarama wouldn't have questioned it. But with Tobi, he was at a loss. His brother seemed to alternate between being so much more clingy than he'd ever been before and then going all stoic and distant.

And -- sure. It was a nightmare. A really scary one, apparently. Kawarama got them too, sometimes, and got freaked out, and wouldn't be at his best, but he usually got better. He gave it a day, and then a few days but if anything Tobirama only got worse. Got crazy intense with his training, was reading all the time when he wasn't and pretty often Kawarama would catch him just… Staring into space.

Worst of all, Hashirama was doing it too.

His older brother was never very serious, but sometimes something would happen, or chichiue would say something and he'd get this look on his face. He started trying to act all responsible, started acting like Tobi already was, but that Kawarama wasn't.

Must have been some nightmare.

Or genjutsu. Or his brothers have been replaced by impostors or something. He doesn't get it! Tobi has had scary dreams before now, but it had never caused anything like this!

And they won't talk about it!

Which as far as Kawarama is concerned, has left him with only one good option.

Ever since Tobirama has started practicing his sensing, there's only been one person who's been able to sneak under his guard, and that's him. Even with his brother's new weird paranoia, he can still manage to trail him through the compound until he's alone with Hashirama.

He was always better at being sneaky, between the two of them.

They meet in one of the gardens, but one of the far away ones. The ones where Hashirama goes to practice with his weird plant-jutsu everyone likes so much. Using trees as cover doesn't work against Hashi, so Kawarama has to resort to henging into a lizard and pretending to sun on a rock. Forcing his chakra as small as he can, its hard to focus on the conversation they're having, especially when it's even weirder than he thought.

"--We're too young for that!" Tobirama chides, "No one in the clan is going to be willing to listen right now, and if something happens to him now there's no way we can control the power vacuum that's going to come afterwards."

"I know, but I need to get him off of your backs! It's -- it's coming soon, Tobi."

There's a long silence, before Tobirama, sounding defeated, says, "I know." And then, frustrated, "I'm trying, but my chakra control isn't anywhere close, yet, and my stores are worse."

Hashirama groans and flops to the ground, the most like himself Kawarama has seen him be all week.

"…I need to do something to distract him from you guys. Give you more time. You always seemed to know him best, Tobi, what do you think I should do…?"

Tobi snorts, "Knew best how to keep him from beating me, more like." Which makes Hashirama make a wounded sound and Kawarama almost lose control of his chakra. Who the hell were they talking about that was trying to beat his brother? "And not right now, anyways. Things are… Different. Maybe I can volunteer --"

"No!" Hashirama cuts in "You already did enough of that for one lifetime. I'm your big brother, I can handle it. I just need to figure something out!"

More silence, just wind and Kawarama forcing himself not to boil over with anger.

"I'll do something to delay him getting to the mission." Hashirama declares, "He'll be forced to give it to someone older if there's less time."

"Maybe. And that's only a short term solution." Tobi mutters, cross, "You know he's just going to do it again."

Hashirama only crosses his arms, "And I can keep coming up with short term solutions until you figure out the long one, right?"

Tobirama rubs at his eyes, and in that moment he just looks so tired. But Kawarama knows he's been sleeping, so why…

"…Right."

It's honestly easy to forget, sometimes, that Tobirama Senju does not have a sharingan.

There's the red eyes, for one, and the incredible speed and reaction time that it's rare to see in one without his clan's doujutsu. But more than that…

Hikaku tracks Tobirama as he twists pasts a barrage of spikes, as he uses the momentum of the move to duck under a blade of bone another shinobi has extended from their wrist and brings up and kunai to cut their throat cleanly instead of being stabbed. Watches as without even a pause, he turns to block another blade as it sweeps in from the side.

He does not know what Tobirama might have done to provoke Kaguya clan into attacking him in the middle of a village market, but Hikaku is certain that intel will be valuable. That's why, despite the fact that he may well be attacked by both parties if he's seen -- the Kaguya traditionally being aggressive towards the Uchiha, which is what makes this so interesting -- he's stayed, watching from underneath shadow of the top gable of a nearby roof.

Though it's looking more and more likely that he would only have to worry about drawing Tobirama's attention towards him, as with a shunshin and a twist of his sword another shinobi crumples to the ground, blood spraying on the dirt.

That's the other thing -- Hikaku has fought the Kaguya on rare occasion, and they are dangerous. Their fighting style is reckless, with hardly any sense of self-preservation, and often catches even seasoned warriors off guard. Tobirama is -- had been -- outnumbered, seemingly surprised, and yet in just a few movements had appeared to understand exactly what he was up against and how to counter it.

And he does not have to sharingan, or the so-called prescience that comes with it. Apparently, his mind simply just works that fast.

Perhaps Izuna's complaints have some real credence to them after all.

A water bullet with enough force to slice muscle takes out the tendon of Tobirama's final enemy, and forces him to his knees, Tobirama shunshins again -- behind him -- to finish the fight with another blade to the spine. Only this Kaguya clan member is quick enough to erupt of nest of spikes from the spot, catching Tobirama's sword in place.

Tobirama's other arm swings around, kunai going cleanly through an unprotected eye. As though he had predicted that very thing was going to happen.

Just as efficiently as he had killed them, Tobirama gathers their bodies and begins going through their things. Removing any clues to what this was all about, no doubt, but Hikaku doesn't dare step in to try and stop him. That encounter does not appear to have even left Tobirama winded, and he doesn't have backup.

A scroll is taken from what must have been the captain's sleeve and hidden beneath armor. Having found what he's looking for, the Senju leans forward and closes the lids of the Kaguya shinobi's eyes -- a small dignity for them that Hikaku is surprised to see -- before turning away. And as he does, those red eyes sweep over their surroundings, pausing on Hikaku just long enough to make it clear: Tobirama knows that he's there; has probably known the entire time.

But Tobirama leaves going another direction, and doesn't start another fight.

The ability to share memories with the sharingan really isn't meant to be used this way, but that's never actually stopped anyone.

"I swear to you," Says Madara with a snicker, "He slapped himself in the face with a water whip. Acted like it never happened, but I saw it."

The scene is a bit more endearing than that, when Madara shows it. Tobirama is sparring with his students and one of them can't quite dodge in time. That jutsu can break skin and cut through muscle if it hits right, but rather than hurt one of his students that badly, Tobirama jerks it back. He breaking the whip's momentum but loses a good portion of control and,  indeed, slaps himself in the fact with it. He looks rather akin to a wet cat.

Madara and Izuna both break out into another fit of laughter, but Hikaku just shakes his head fondly.

"I've seen him do that on purpose, actually." He says after the laughter has died down a bit. It's not exactly the same -- the memory he calls up had been recorded on accident. It had been in those early days of peace, when seeing Tobirama move water about had made him call up the sharingan on instinct, back when they'd be so concerned that Tobirama would break peace that he wasn't allowed to go off on missions alone.

It had been rather rote mission -- dealing with bandits who had thought they could take advanced of the disorganization of a new village, andhad had been hot. The summer temperatures soaring high and uncomfortable, and they'd both been sweat soaked and sticky by the end of it.

"Excuse me" Tobirama had said the moment he'd cause sight of a source of water. He'd let himself jump in ankle deep instead of standing on top, raised an arm, and proceeded to dump an honestly excessive amount of water over himself. Of course, his mastery over water let him pull water out of his clothes until he was just the right amount of damp without any effort-- Hikaku had been and still is jealous over it -- and even back then, eyes lingered on where wet clothes stuck to well-defined muscle.

Thankfully no one comments. The sharingan's tendency to show the exactly what was seen means they've all shared unintentionally embarrassing moments. Plus, Hikaku knows he's not the only one who's done that exact thing.

"Oh, sensei will do that for us, if we ask!" Chimes in Kagami, thankfully too young and oblivious to understand why his cousins are giving Hikaku the side eye. He launches into a memory of his team begging and pleading to be allowed to train on the water on another hot day. His sensei had crossed his arms, unimpressed, and said he knew that the lot of them had all mastered water walking already…

…But that if the lot of them managed to prove they could do their D-rank mission without complaining, he would think of a way to cool them all off. In Kagami's young memory, the cool mist Tobirama had raised from the pond of the garden they'd been weeding had been the most refreshing thing he'd ever felt.

"…He's too soft on you." Madara says, without any real heat.

"He's something." Izuna responds dryly. "Sometimes I forget, none of you have ever seen what it's like when he really wants to get something done."

Without warning, Izuna calls up the memory of a fight. No… A spar, but a bloodthirsty one. Probably one of the first ones they'd had since they were allowed to again, after peace was called. A mixture of pent up frustration and the fact that they were no longer supposed to kill each other had both of them showing off -- Izuna was prone to do it, regardless, but this was the first time he'd seen Tobirama opt for techniques that were more flashy than practical. A water dragon with multiple heads splits apart into a swarm, chasing Izuna through the trees, each one eating one of the multi-fireballs Izuna hurls out to counter them.

Tobirama did not hesitate, leaping out from the steam and twisting his fingers. The droplets of water in the air shimmered and twisted until everything was an indistinct haze.

Not that it stops a sharingan. But something about the scene -- the way the light hit the mist, haloing Tobirama with a sort of rainbow -- or maybe the way he's smirking -- makes Izuna pause.

Oh, he thinks.

Oh, thinks everyone else.

"Hashirama, darling."

Hashirama ducks his head, wondering if he'll be able to pretend he hadn't heard his wife calling him. She only uses that tone when she's really annoyed with him.

A hand lands on his shoulder and he starts. She snuck up on him! Definitely mad.

"…Yes, Mito, dearest?"

He turns to look up at his with his most winning smile, which has never, not once, worked on his beautiful wife, but he always tries.

"Do you remember how we talked about how, lovely as your garden is, you need to keep it outside?"

Hashirama blinks. Looks around. Looks up -- they are in the garden, and as far as he can tell, they are also outside.

"…Yes?"

She smiles at him, reaches out to clasp his hand between her own. Wordlessly, he lets her tug him to his feet and back to the house. The boxwood was getting a little tired of being pruned anyways.

They don’t actually get far enough inside to have to remove their shoes. Mito slides open the door and waits, eyes on him.

"Oh!" He laughs nervously, "Uh. I'm sure if you leave it alone, it won't bother you?"

The centipede is only about a meter long, and Hashirama is reasonably certain that the venom this kind has isn't particularly dangerous.

Mito does not look very impressed.

"How do you feel," She asks, "About making a special garden. One a little further away from the house."

Mito had never quite managed to get herself to believe in rumors of Hashirama's ruthlessness. Not until, on the first night she spent visiting Senju Lands, he caught her in private. Sat her down, clasped her hand, told her he understood if she thought differently of him, after this…

Her family hadn't quite been convinced of the need to marry her to Hashirama, though to not marry someone would have meant to all but break the alliance they'd had with the Senju for as long as both clans had existed.

Mito had argued it should be herself, in the end, and not for truly political reasons.

She liked Hashirama, liked his grand dreams, and even if they seemed a little too far-fetched to come true, he'd certainly make interesting things happen by trying. Her family liked him too. It was his father that had them all concerned, and, well…

Patricide was no small thing, but Hashirama had said, guilty and tearful, that his father hurt people. Broke people. That he wouldn't accept peace if it was handed to him on a silver platter, and the longer he stayed in power the harder it would be for Hashirama to achieve it.

Mito had promised not only to keep his secret, but to support him, where she could. There wasn't much she could do, not when they weren’t married yet, but she kept an eye out, an ear open, and a few seals hidden in certain spots to help those first two thing along.

That was how she noticed Tobirama -- the stoic younger brother, the one who she'd been introduced to but not actually properly met, which was a shame because she'd heard he was a dab hand at seal work and hardly anyone else seemed interested in it, around here -- was acting just suspiciously enough that she could tell he was up to something.

She'd just assumed he was in on it. It was the most obvious answer to why she overheard him. He was cautious about it, clever; what he was doing only apparent to her because she was an outsider not privy to whatever assumptions Tobirama was using to get away with with saying what he was saying. He was undermining his father's leadership. Smoothing along the inevitable transfer of power.

It wasn't until later that she realized otherwise. She'd thought meals were strained because they were shared with Butsuma, but one evening the Senju clan head was called away for work. Even with him gone, Tobirama remained withdrawn, and Hashirama's smiles remained tense and forced.

"I thought…" Mito puzzled out slowly, after the meal, and Hashirama had oh-so improperly found another private moment with her, "That your brother was after him, too?"

"If he is, he's never told me." Hashirama said, all sad and bitter and anxious.

Well, Mito would just have to see what was going on with that.

Suiton users already run cold. With the chakra exhaustion on top of that, Izuna really could be sitting next to a corpse.

Maybe he should be. With everything between them, it would be easy to make it so, but…

Tobirama started it, he thinks sourly. If the Senju had taken any of the plentiful opportunities he'd had to strike Izuna down, it wouldn't have ended up like this. But no -- months ago they'd agreed that until they figured out the way back home that letting the other live was not treason. This, though. This was too far. Leaving the other alive was one thing -- to sacrifice yourself for the other, when they were who they were, was a level of insanity only Tobirama could muster.

Izuna knows why he did it, too. Years of fighting meant he knew his rival, but these months have forced some level of understanding. Lying next to him, breathing so shallowly that Izuna can't hear it without putting an ear to his chest is a man who can't stand losing the things he cares about, to the point of self destruction.

He cares.

Izuna made him care.

He reaches over, takes the pale wrist between his fingers to find the faint pulse, and tries not to think about how it doesn't feel like a victory.

Hikaku rubs at stinging eyes and re-reads a line for the third time in as many minutes.

It's not even lunch yet. He's usually not so tired this early in the day, but he's had a pounding headache since he woke up this morning and the noise of construction just outside his office really hasn't helped with his focus. He already shut the window to block out some of the unusual chill that's lasted past the early morning, but the sound of hammering and shouting still filters up and frays at his nerves.

Having a place to eat so close to the administrative tower will be nice, really! He just wishes they could make it happen more quietly. Just for today, at least.

Hikaku groans and smothers his face into his hand, resenting how nice the pressure and darkness feels. It would help if anyone from the Nara could be bothered to make their handwriting neat enough to read.

A presence announces itself at the door with a light rap, and Hikaku is faintly alarmed to note that he's so fatigued that it feels like a monumental struggle to lift his head and greet them.

It's Tobirama, arms crossed and frowning faintly.

"I came to see if you had finished looking over contract proposals the Nara sent, but…"

Hikaku winces. He's made it a bit of a point of pride to be on time with his paperwork, and that's something Tobirama seems to appreciate, but now here he is with something truly time sensitive and he can't focus enough to get it done.

"Apologies." He says, "I'll get it to you as soon as I'm finished."

Tobirama nods, but he does not otherwise move, and after a long moment of staring at each other, Hikaku ducks his head and tries to focus back on the work in front of him.

"Hikaku-san." Tobirama's voice is suddenly much closer, because -- he looks up with a start, he knows Tobirama is fast but honestly, his reaction was slow -- the man himself is closer, leaning over Hikaku's desk and into his space with an unreadable look on his face.

Hikaku can only blink. His mind feels like it's swimming through syrup, and it runs completely blank as Tobirama raises a hand and rests the back of his cool fingers on Hikaku's brow.

"You're sick." He announces, and, well, when it's pointed out so plainly, the evidence adds up. But then Tobirama goes on to say, "You should go home, you'll do better work when you're well rested."

Those are bold words coming from one of the most chronically overworked people Hikaku knows. And the response that bubbles out of him is, "You stayed in the office when you were sick last month, isn't that a bit hypocritical?"

He doesn't actually mean to say that last part out loud, but with Tobirama so close to him and looking at him so intently, the chill he'd been feeling has been flushed out by a warmth that's only serving to muddle his thoughts further.

"I didn't have anyone encouraging me to do otherwise." Tobirama replies with an unrepentant shrug. Which… Is true enough, if a very flimsy justification. Hikaku had noticed, at least, and had made sure Tobirama always had some tea ready if he needed it, but he'd not actually pointed out that the man should rest.

"…Hikaku-san." Tobirama says again, pulling his wandering attention back. The frown has returned with greater intensity, "Who takes care of you in times like this?"

It's already clear that Tobirama isn't willing to be swayed. He's already hard enough to persuade at the best of times, and Hikaku hardly feels capable of a conversation right now, much less an argument.

…But he's not in such a bad state that he needs someone to take care of him. His mind goes to Madara first, but he's far too busy to worry over something like this, and then Izuna, who would also be busy, if he wasn't out on a mission, anyways. The Uchiha are a tight knit clan, and there are plenty of other names he could say, but… There's work, and missions, and new children, and it's really not worth getting in anyone's way over a simple cold…

"…I see." Says Tobirama, taking his extended silence as an answer. One he looks unhappy with, for whatever reason.

Without warning, he stands up and begins gathering all the papers left on Hikaku's desk into a neat pile.

"Ah…?" Is about as far as Hikaku gets into protesting before those cool fingers are on his wrist and the entire world lurches out from under him. He hadn't been feeling nauseous before, but the surprise hirashin brings it to the back of his throat, and Hikaku has to hunch over and breath through it for a few moments before he can get a bearing on where he is.

It's a small wooden house, one that smells distinctively of the pine and sap of a mokuton grown building. It's a little cluttered, but it's obvious that everything has it's own place.

There's a temptingly inviting looking kotatsu in the middle of the room. There's paperwork on the kitchen counter. There's a shrine in one corner, and in the other, an armor stand with a familiar set of blue hanging off it.

…He's in Tobirama's house.

"I'm not going to actually stop you from working, even if I think you should rest." Tobirama ignores Hikaku's gaping and sets the paperwork on the kotatsu, "It should be easier to focus here, regardless. I'm going to make soup for lunch."

Hikaku stares for a long, long moment as Tobirama does, indeed, move to kitchen and start pulling out ingredients. The Senju only glances up at him when he performs a sloppy kai just to make sure there's no genjutsu involved with...Whatever this is, but nothing changes. Either this is a fever induced hallucination, or it's real.

For lack of another option, Hikaku picks his way over to the kotatsu and slides to sit underneath it. It must have only just been turned on, but the warmth already feels dangerously comfortable.

Tobirama had been correct about one thing, at least. The sound of something being chopped in the kitchen makes it much easier to focus than the sounds of construction did. If only he didn't lose what he had gained in the way it's growing harder and harder to keep his eyelids open.

… A few moments to rest his eyes will probably do wonders to get this headache under control, and Tobirama will wake him up to eat, surely?

And if he doesn't, if Hikaku wakes up with his work already done and a meal ready to be reheated and eaten, well… Who could blame him for doing exactly what was planned?

Hikaku waits in perfect stillness, aside from the slow spin of his sharingan.

There is little chance of securing himself a spouse this hunt, he knows. Not when the prey is Senju Tobirama.

Madara is out there, stronger than him, and Izuna, faster and more familiar with the prey. There are clan members who are better at tracking and sensing who all stand a better chance than him, but if he had not even tried, then Hikaku would have had no chance at all.

In truth, he thinks the most likely outcome is Tobirama remaining unbound and unwed by the time the sun rises. The treaty had only called for a hunt, not a marriage, and the blessed one is clever and wily. They had known that when they'd asked for this. But the Uchiha had wanted a chance, however slim, to bring those blessed eyes into their clan.

Hikaku had wanted a chance, too -- it felt blasphemous to not at least try. And so, he waits. Unmoving, chakra crushed down to blend in with the trees, as his clansmen scatter and search in the forest around him.

He has no chance of chasing down Tobirama, he's known that from the start, so instead of trying he's found a spot, set up traps, and sits, waiting. Tobirama probably wont fall for them, either, but he might, and that's at least worth waiting in the forest until sunrise.

One of the wires he's attached to a distant branch vibrates, then another, and another. One might have been an animal, but so many so fast means a person. Person doesn't mean Tobirama, but Hikaku tenses in preparation, regardless. Whoever they are, they're moving towards him at breakneck speed. Fleeing, Hikaku hopes, as he curls one hand around the wire in the clearing, and another in a sign, ready to spring one of the traps at his feet.

A figure springs into view, a streak of ghostly white, and Hikaku does not hesitate, pulling the wires tight around a figure that, even though he is clearly surprised, is able to dodge the attack. But not perfectly; when he hits the ground, its with a stumble, and its pure instinct that has Hikaku forming the hand signs to pull the pre-loosened dirt under him down and in.

Before Hikaku can even blink, he has Tobirama buried up to his shoulders. The blessed one is red faced and panting with exertion. He looks around wildly, meeting Hikaku's gaze for a moment that seems to stretch forever before he tears his red eyes away, struggling fruitlessly against the dirt and stone holding him still.

Hikaku hesitates. He wishes they had time to talk, wishes he had time to ask, because the last thing he wants is for Tobirama to resent him for this more than he will already. But the way he'd been moving and the sounds of pursuit in the woods behind can only mean whoever had him fleeing is close. If Hikaku wants to claim Tobirama for himself, he has to do it now.

"I'm sorry." He breathes, like it will help anything.  He loosens the dirt on one side, enough for Tobirama to free one arm, which he does immediately. Hikaku is waiting for it, and he catches the limb, interlocks their fingers, and wraps the red silk cord that every Uchiha who's come out to the hunt tonight has brought with them around both of their wrists, heart thundering all the while.

Tobirama stops struggling after the first knot is tied, but he waits until they're fully bound together to say, "It seems you've caught me, Uchiha-san."

His voice is even. There's no fear or anger in it, and now that it's really over he allows himself to meet Hikaku's eyes. Tobirama looks like he's calculating. Considering.

Hikaku smiles at him, self depreciating. He's just some faceless Uchiha to Tobirama, he knows. No one important. He hopes that doesn't make the fact that he's the one who caught him sting even worse.

"You can call me Hikaku." He says, loosening the rest of the dirt and helping Tobirama climb free. Tobirama accepts it -- has to, since their hands are bound.

They're both still on their knees, facing each other when Madara arrives in the clearing with the thunderous crack-snap of stones shattering under his feet when he lands. Izuna is behind him only a moment later -- if they had gotten frustrated with Tobirama slipping away and decided to work together, then it's no wonder he had been so harried when he'd arrived.

"Madara-sama." He greets, "Izuna-sama. I don't suppose you'd mind giving us a bit of privacy?"

Both of them stare for a long moment, eyes comically wide before sharing a look with each other. Izuna makes a helpless wheezing sound, and Madara has to be the one to grab his arm and say, voice high, "Yes. Let's go."

Tobirama almost looks bemused as they flee, though it's fleeting, replaced with that cool consideration as he turns to regard Hikaku. He's the one who caught Tobirama, but he has to suppress a shiver at that red eyed gaze.

Tobirama is beautiful, so no matter how this goes he'll have that, at least but…

"I would have liked to have asked if you if you were okay with this." He admits, "But now that they've seen, I'm afraid there's no going back."

Tobirama tilts his chin up imperiously.

"Do not pity me. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to this."

In return, Hikaku thins his lips.

"Agreeing to a hunt and getting caught are two very different things." He argues, then sighs. "But I suppose that hardly matters, now. Is -- ah." He really hadn't come prepared for this. His few fantasies involving Tobirama have been more domestic than --  "…Is there a way you'd prefer to do this?"

Tobirama must be unimpressed with the blush coloring his cheeks, Hikaku thinks. At least until he notices this pink starting to dust Tobirama's own.

"…I knew what I was getting into." Tobirama repeats, but this time his voice is quieter, eyes fixed down, on their intertwined fingers, "The treaty may not have demanded a marriage, but peace will be much more stable if one exists."

Oh. Hikaku breaths. Oh, he had been planning on getting caught. If things had gone differently, Tobirama may well have treated the forest of hunters like a buffet of suitors to pick and chose at his will, but instead...

"What I mean to say is --" Tobirama shuffles forward until their knees are touching and he can feel the warmth of Tobirama's breath on his lips, "-- I came prepared. And you did catch me fair and square, Hikaku-san."

Truth be told, they don't know long it's been before they realize. The Senju tend to go on the defensive when it's harvest season, and that usually extends into a quiet winter, at least for as long as Hashirama has been clan head. The lack of aggressive border patrols doesn't raise anyone's alarm.

No, the first word they get at something being wrong comes from a civilian woman, of all places. The kind that show up occasionally to beg the nearest shinobi clan for some charity.

Her village has been all but held hostage by bandits, she tells them, and she'd gone to the Senju who were closer, only --

Only no one had been there.

It had seems like an obvious trap, at first, and if not that, then perhaps the woman had just come across some abandoned place and mistaken it for the Senju village; Shinobi aren't so easy to find without a guide, after all, and the Senju especially keep themselves secreted away in the woods like animals.

Eventually they'd told her they'd look into it, just as soon as they'd figured out what had happened with the Senju.

Madara insisted on leading the scouting group himself, and he stopped in his tracks as soon as he stepped onto the other side of the river. Looked up and down the tree line with wild eyes, sharingan briefly spinning into a Mangekyo that set the rest of the squad on edge.

"There's…It's nothing. And that means something's wrong." Was all he explained before demanding they move onward.

Izuna didn't understand what he meant until they were much deeper into the forest. There is nothing wrong, no hairs on the back of his neck rising, no feeling of being watched -- and there always is, this deep in Senju territory. Related to the Mokuton, he thinks, so it was no wonder that Madara had noticed first.

So -- something happened to their clan head, Izuna reasons. Perhaps the Senju closed their compound in mourning and redirected the woman elsewhere. It's a reasonable enough explanation, but Madara won't settle until he knows for certain, so he stands by his brother's side and follows him deeper into the woods.

It wasn't as though he was wrong. Something had happened to Hashirama, and the rest of his clan with him.

The gates to the compound are closed, but there are no patrols on the walls, and no traps set on the perimeter to slow their approach. Izuna can't help the sick anxiety twisting up his throat. This has to be bait, something to lure them into a false sense of security and their eventual deaths. Nothing else makes sense.

But a glimpse over the wall show no signs of life inside. No people moving around, no laundry drying on the line, not even any noren fluttering in the wind -- for some reason they've all been taken down, leaving the compound dead and motionless.

The dread only mounts as they make their way over the wall and deeper inside. The houses are empty, stripped down to the floor mats. A few traps have been left behind, but not the dangerous ones Izuna had imagined. Just small scale things, meant to keep intruders out of the abandoned buildings. Easily disarmed, but that only adds to the unease.

They will go back and do a thorough search later, but the only clue, from out of every empty room, every cleared out cellar, every spot of turned dirt where it looked as though even some trees were taken, is in the main square. A circle of soot, smudged and stained deep into the stone. The remains of a seal that was used over and over again, already dissolved and unreadable.

The Senju must have used it. Or it must have done something to them. But what, no one has any idea.

The Uchiha never do quite manage to celebrate the disappearance of their enemy. Some do, and some are so clearly relived that the threat is gone, but as winter goes on the feeling that settles across the clan is one of dread. It is one part fear, not knowing what's happened to them, and one part worry about the future. Their entire lives and the lives of their ancestors are filled with memories of their war with the Senju. If they're gone, if it's over, what comes next?

Madara doesn't believe it is. Cannot accept that they are just -- gone. He gets more involved with their spy network than he ever has before hunting for a hint, and writes the daimyo informing him of the Senju's disappearance, hoping that he will get some answer when the thinly veiled request for dominion over those lands is inevitably rejected.

If your words and the rumors I have heard are true, the reply says, Then I see no reason not to accept the claim your clan has held on those lands.

Convenient, that he only acknowledges it now.

Izuna, for his part, settles on an anger that ebbs and flows between scalding rage and petty annoyance. How dare the Senju avoid the revenge that the Uchiha, that Izuna is owed.

He never lets himself slack off in training during the winter, and despite the circumstances this year is no exception. The Senju are tricky. If that mark was a seal, then Tobirama is no doubt responsible. They'll be back, probably at the most inopportune moment, but he'll be ready.

It hadn't been so bad, over the winter. There were normally less fights then, anyways, and they'd gotten by whole seasons without skirmishes before. But in the thaw of spring, somehow the anxiety only coils tighter.

Normally this was when they started finding Senju summons tracking their movements. When they'd inevitably get called into opposing sides under for some noble's border dispute and reignite conflict all over again.

Not this year. Somehow, the trees are quieter even on their side of the river. He shivers, when he realizes, but Izuna refuses to think about just how much of what he'd been used to had been the result of Hashirama's bloodline.

There are more missions than normal, true, but it hardly helps things. Their goal was the defeat the Senju, and denied that --

Some want to start picking new fights already, with old Senju allies. Izuna can't say he disagrees, though he knows it's unwise to do without good reason. Anyone who might have been easy to pick off has already scattered banded together with someone else.

Madara has started drinking more often. Izuna doesn't comment. He knows his brother is far from the only one.

(He's reviewed his memories, over and over, he tells Izuna, but the last time he'd seen them nothing had seemed different. It had been on a battlefield, and Hashirama had shouted for peace, had asked what he needed to do to convince him, and Madara had refused to answer, like always. If that had been an ultimatum, shouldn't there have been more?)

(Izuna has looked over his memories, too, but the only difference in Tobirama that day had been darker bags than usual under his eyes.)

Izuna can't stand the mood around the compound; half of his clan mates are acting more like their lover has died than their enemy. He takes those extra missions, and he goes. And keeps going, for days, for weeks,sometimes only staying home for hours at a time because as long as he's on a mission, he doesn't have to think about it.

It's a coastal town in Hot Water country, and Izuna spots a face that he attacks on instinct -- no care for the fact that they're in a public market -- his heart is busy singing not dead, not gone even as he lunges for the throat of the one who made him think it with a kunai.

It's a sloppy move, admittedly. One that Tobirama catches with an unimpressed glare.

"Must you?" He asks.

"Yes!" Izuna cries, dancing back from a returning blow that -- does not come. His breath is coming in heaves, though the fight is hardly started. He's too exited, and that means he'll get sloppy, but Tobirama isn't even in his armor right now, he's dressed down looking all the world like he's grocery shopping, so it might be even.

"You were fucking gone." Izuna accuses, "Don't think I'm about to let you get away without payback for all the lives you've taken."

Tobirama glances at the crowd that's started to form around them -- stupid move, but they haven't started pulling out flashy shinobi moves yet so they probably just think they're about to see a street fight.

"Figures." Tobirama mumbles. "It's been months already. Haven't you started to see the benefits of peace?"

Izuna sneers, draws his sword and lunges, but for some infuriating reason Tobirama is focused only on dodging, not fighting back. He seems -- disappointed, almost, which only makes it worse. How is he supposed to explain that he hasn't, that without the enemies they've all been born and raised to kill, his clan has started to stagnate into something hopeless and pathetic.

Tobirama catches sword against a sleeved kunai with a clang and holds it there.

"Consider that we've had to give up our vendettas against you, too, in doing this." He says, "Just… Move on. It'll be better for everyone."

An odd look passes over his face, one Izuna will replay in his memory over and over and still not understand.

"Goodbye, Izuna."

A crack of thunder breaks through the sunny afternoon air, and Tobirama Senju is gone, like the rest of his clan, without a trace.

As if Izuna intends on letting it stay that way.

It is a lovely day, but Kou has opted to have the shogi board set up inside with the fusuma closed.  He's not so dramatic as to darken the room enough to need candles to see by, but the temptation is there -- he likes to set a mood, and more importantly, he likes to prove a point.

Waiting for him, kneeling in perfect seiza on the other side of the board, is the man responsible for keeping Kou from total victory over the Senju clan.

He still does not know quite how; he's been maneuvering for years and had been quite sure that the daimyo would finally agree to seize their stolen lands and scatter the clan members living on them to the four winds. Instead, somehow, the Senju have survived, have ended up as Uchiha vassals instead of dead, and Senju Itama, with his striking two colored hair, had been the one at court when it was announced. He had bowed deeply to the daimyo and given thanks for his mercy, then had turned to bow to Kou and greeted him as his Lord.

In the most infuriating move of all, he had insisted that he had been given orders not to take action until he had reported to his clan head, and though he wasn't able to deny the offer to be escorted back to his clan lands, he had managed to politely rebuff any conversations that went deeper than basic barbs and pleasantry quite skillfully.

Now, though, he's spoken to his clan head -- in person, not the summons Kou knows he sent ahead. Senju Kawarama and Kuro are only a few rooms over, discussing the Senju clan's obligations to their new lords, and Itama has no more excuses to deny him a game and a discussion.

The Senju bows at the waist as Kou sweeps into the room, perfectly formal and polite, as is the way he averts his eyes.

Hah. Yes, that's going to be a change in etiquette that will be a pain to force the Senju to accept. Now isn't the time to push it though. Instead he hums, "It's lovely to see you again, Senju-san. And -- ah, what a nice board you've set up for us."

"You as well." Itama has seated himself on the white side and will be playing second -- Kou respects him enough to know it must be deliberate, though to what end he cannot yet say, "And thank you. It was actually grown in one piece by the last member of our clan to hold our kekkei genkai."

Ah, so it would have been one of Itama's long-dead brothers, then. Terrible thing, killing one so young, but it wasn't as though there were many options to deal with someone with the potential for so much disruptive power; not when they were still at war. He could do better now, but it isn't now. Kou is unsure what the Senju is trying to do by evoking the dead, but if a try an emotional reaction, he's not going to get it.

"Interesting." He says, "I hadn't known it could be used for craftsmanship."

Which is a lie, and an obvious one, but Itama does not call him on it. He does, however, stiffen as Kou activates his sharingan. It's not obvious, Itama's composure is very good, but when faced with a sharingan there are some reactions that just can't be hidden. The slight thinning of lips, the locking of muscles, the speed of his pulse hammering in his throat.

"I like to remember the games I've played to go over them later." Kou says with his most disarming smile, "You won't mind."

"Of course not." Itama agrees easily, voice betraying nothing, "I await your move."

Kou slides a pawn forward, faux careless in his selection. He's not one of those fools who believes that one can see into a man's soul from how he plays the game, but he will admit there is some insight to be had. A few moves pass in silence, the Senju going for a traditional, defensive opening, and quickly foiling any chance Kou might have had at a gambit and a quick win.

Ah, well. More fun to play it out, anyways.

"I must say, you keep beautiful gardens here in your clan compound." He says. It's nothing, just probing idle small talk, but the corner Itama's lip curls.

"We do." And then, "If you don't mind me saying so, Uchiha-sama, there's no need to work up to your point. I'm ready to hear it."

That startles a barking laugh out of Kou. What an exercise in contractions Senju Itama is! He's clearly afraid of him, must hate his clan, yet he holds himself so calmly -- he's the only one who has ever truly challenged Kou, politically, yet he speaks so bluntly. How bold!

"Oh you misunderstand." Kou purrs as he captures on of Itama's pawns, "I didn't come here with a point, I simply find myself quite enchanted and wished to learn more about you. That's all."

"Ah. Well I suppose that I'm flattered then, thank you" Itama replies, voice genuine and his face not twitching a bit to prove otherwise.

Yes, he is good, and if allowed to remain with the Senju clan he will become dangerous. There are many ways Kou could have gone about this, but Itama has postured himself as a man who appreciates directness, so he'll try that first.

"Truth be told, I'd love to take you out of here." He admits, and there is a pause in Itama's hand as he goes to move another piece -- capturing one of his pawns in fact, though doing so doesn't actually improve his position by much, "As lovely as the gardens may be, you must be aware that the things needed to help adjust a clan to becoming vassals are… Difficult. I simply think you'd be better suited elsewhere, with your talents. Somewhere where you might live a bit of a nicer life."

Yes, quite a lot of his clan want to make the Senju live in misery, but if Kou is to let them do that, it will have to be subtle. If they mistreat their vassals, they will look like bad lords, and may even give the Senju enough argument to try and demand freedom again -- given their circumstances, becoming subservient was actually the best protection the Senju could have asked for.

Itama hums neutrally as he appears to study the board. They trade a few quick moves before he asks, "We hardly know each other as yet, what sort of work could you possibly have in mind?" The steadying breath he takes before meeting Kou's eyes is silent, and his gaze is challenging.

"Oh, I'm sure you'd do well no matter what I asked of you, Senju-san, but I wasn't thinking of putting you to work." He glances down only long enough to capture Itama's gold general, "Marriage was more what I had in mind."

He's good, but not that good. That casual declaration clearly scrambles Itama's thoughts and delays his next turn for a long moment before his expression settles into something unimpressed.

The Senju and Uchiha clans are not equals now, not that Kou thinks they ever were, and that demotion is so fresh that there is next to no chance of any marriage between their clans being a balanced one.

Not that Kou was lying about giving him a nicer life! It would not do for the head of the Uchiha clan to mistreat a concubine of his, after all.

"…One of my brothers died defending me from the Uchiha." Is how Itama responds a long moment later, picking up the game again and moving to defend his other general. He speaks evenly, without hostility, despite the subject, "It took me a long time to come to terms with it, but I decided that the best way to honor what he'd done for me was to live my life as freely and happily as I am able."

Itama's eyes remained fixed to the board as they trade a few inconsequential moves back and forth, "So, Uchiha-sama, assuming you are giving the option, I'm afraid I will have to decline." He moves his rook back to the position it was in the turn before, and looks up with a ghost of a smile. "I am, however, amenable to being courted."

Kou almost laughs again. Bold, indeed! A shame he cannot force the issue, or he'll run into the same problems with mistreatment that his clan is certain to complain about in the coming days. He smiles back, knowing and not caring that his smirk makes him look like cruel madman.

"Perhaps we can revisit the offer later."

"Perhaps." Itama agrees. Then he takes his turn. Moves a piece, and says, "Ah. It appears we've reached a sennichite."

…A repetition draw. Kou had been more focused on Itama's reactions than the game, but when he thinks back on the past few moves find that the Senju is right. What a blunder on his part -- and when was the last time there was someone capable enough to make him do that?

"So we have." Kou agrees, letting his sharingan fade, "I think it's time we check on our brothers then. It was an interesting game, Senju-san. I hope you'll join me for another soon."

He thinks he means it too. Senju Itama is someone he's going to have to keep a close eye on, indeed.

By all means they should have paused to freshen up after traveling from one compound to the other. Certainly, they should at least take a break after having been attacked on the way, but Kou didn't even dirty his sleeves defending them, and made certain that Itama didn't either.

"It was well done, my Lord, but to owe you a favor…" Senju Itama diligently follows him to the pavilion Kou has set up for them in advance, "Why, you didn't even give me a chance to show how well I could defend myself."

Kou fights not to roll his eyes. Yes, if their clans weren't what they were Kou wouldn't have even tried to demand a favor for what otherwise should have been his duty to a vassal, but he'd wanted to try. A lesser man might have stumbled, but Itama is, of course, well aware of the dangers of being in debt to someone like him. Considering they're here to discuss his clan's tax contributions Kou hadn't expected the Senju to send any but their best; he's certain Itama won't be giving him any leeway.

Ah, but it's more fun that way.

Kou gives a theatrical sigh, "Ah, but the whole point is that you shouldn't have to defend yourself, yes? Still, I suppose I see your point. But if I can't ask a favor, then perhaps you'd be willing to answer a question of mine instead?"

He glances back to see Itama wearing that unimpressed expression that looks so charming on him.

"You wound me by implying I wouldn't answer anything you ask, Uchiha-sama." He says, "Of course I will; it's only that I cannot promise you'll like the answer you receive."

"That doesn't matter to me." Kou waves off as they reach their destination. A pot of tea and a bundle of scrolls already awaits them there, "The truth is more valuable. And besides, I only want to know what it is you did to get the daimyo to grant your clan mercy."

Because that's what it was, and that is the question that has been itching at Kou the most ever since he'd managed to bring the Senju low.

Itama blinks at him, lips slowly curling into in incredulous smile.

"Is that all, Uchiha-sama? It was nothing complicated enough to require all these dramatics. Your clan may be the daimyo's darlings, but it's not as though he hates the Senju. All I had to do--"

And here, Kou suffers the worse lapse of self control that he has ever had in his life.

Itama smoothly drops to his knees, close enough to press a cheek to his thigh. His stomach lurches and his sharingan flares too life without his conscious input, forever burning the signs of Itama fluttering his mismatched eyelashes and saying, "--was get on my knees and beg for it."

Itama pulls away not even a breath later as though his movements were nothing, just a coincidence that happened as he was moving to sit in seiza. And Kou is --

Has he ever been this unbalanced? He reaches for composure through his mangled thoughts but he can't manage to grab it; not with that memory already on repeat. Not with the admiration of just how well Itama had played the game -- because there's not a hint of victory in his expression to remind Kou of the manipulation that he knows it was. That Itama has done it so well only makes his heart speed and his thoughts skitter away worse.

Itama smiles at him again as he sinks down to his knees to join him, apparently guileless as he reaches to pour them tea. No one has ever found Kou's weak spots and exploited them so easily before. No one else could. And now here he is going into negotiations hardly able to find his words.

He'd known Senju Itama was a dangerous one, he'd just thought himself that much better.

Hah.

 Well played to him, then.

They send Hikaku to tell him, because Hikaku is the only one of them who knows how to deliver bad news with anything resembling tact.

They've never acknowledged the awkwardness of the situation to his face. He's a Senju, he's their born enemy, and they're supposed to keep him safe and happy and content while at the same time keeping him away from his family, who they're constantly trying to kill.

Well -- they were trying to do that. Now they're trying to make peace with each other, and part of that had involved admitting that they'd had a Senju living, chakra sealed, in their compound for years. He would have loved to be a fly on the wall for that conversation, but he suspects he's only going to get any freedom after he gets moved into the village they've been building, and that really depends on how this reveal goes.

"I'm so sorry Itsuki-san" Hikaku bows deep to him, hiding a face that had, for a moment, twisted in genuine sympathy, "We informed them of your survival and they did not remember your name, nor the names of your family. Tobirama-san said he would look into the records, but in all likelihood --"

"It's alright." He cuts Hikaku off, turning to hide his own expression because he doesn't know what it will look like right now, "I suspected as much."

They think his brothers are dead, and they're not really wrong. Kenta and Jiro have never existed. Technically Itsuki doesn't either, though he's been using that name for so long that he thinks of it as his own more often than he doesn't these days.

His brothers are fine, and he knows it, because Hikaku just mentioned one of them and he certainly would have heard if something had happened to the other. The Uchiha had thrown a whole celebration when they'd killed his father, he doesn’t doubt that someone would at least come tell him if they'd killed Hashirama, too.

"I'd still like to see my clan again." He lets his voice shake, though its nerves, not sadness like he's sure Hikaku assumes, "Is there any way you could get me to see the head?"

He could probably tell them who he really is. In fact, he probably should, but he can't perfectly predict what their reactions will be. They probably won't stop him from seeing his brothers again, but they could, so it's not worth the risk.

Everyone will be mad anyways, waiting probably isn't going to make it any worse.

"Oh that's no problem Itsuki-san," He looks over and finds himself matching Hikaku's weak smile with one of his own, "he practically insisted."

Everyone had been reasonably sure that the Senju weren't going to harm one of their own, but 'everyone' only includes Izuna rarely, and never when he's being paranoid and nosy. His demand to act as an escort is as annoying as it is familiar, but it does have it's benefits. For one he doesn't even have to ask Izuna to try and get them there unseen, and for the other Itama is going to get to see the look on his face when he realizes exactly who he is.

The house doesn't look anything like he remembers it, but it shouldn't, considering it's an entirely different building. There are a few similarities in style, though, and he'd bet that they brought over the old shoji screens and fusuma panels -- but he can't say for certain. All the wood looks new, and it makes his throat close up; not for any nostalgia, but because he can see all the little flourishes and details, and Hashirama had hardly been capable of growing the flower that he'd been meaning to when they were kids. He knows that people apparently call his brother the God of Shinobi, that a house isn't even on the low end of what he's capable of now, but they'd all been just stories. The house is real and his brothers are inside and somehow he's only realizing just now that he's got no idea what he's going to say to them.

Itama runs his hand over the wood of the nearest post and swallows hard, looking helplessly at Izuna who has his arms folded, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"I'm sure he knows we're here." Izuna grouses, "…Tobirama, I mean."

"...I know who you mean." Itama's response comes out a little to weak to be a tease.

Izuna reaches out to knock on the wall and announce their presence regardless. He's was right, though, because the door slides open only a few moments later.

To his great shame, Itama doesn't recognize his brother on first sight.

Time has apart has eroded away at his memories. Hashirama was always kind to him, even when he wasn't patient, and he smiled a lot, but Itama can't remember his face. He can't remember Tobirama's either, but his mind always conjures up a smear of white and red. The man who opens the door isn't colored like that at all.

Tobirama never used to wear the disguise he'd made for them at home -- a deceptively simple seal to darken their hair and eyes, the first one he'd ever mastered so they stood a chance of leaving the compound and being as useful as everyone else. He would always complain about the waste of chakra and deactivate it as soon as he deemed it safe. With it on, he looks like a perfectly generic Senju man: tan skin, dark brown hair and darker brown eyes.

Those dark eyes flicker over Izuna for a brief moment before landing on him and going wide. Izuna chastises him about something -- genjutsu? Something Tobirama just did with his chakra, which Itama still can't feel thanks to the seal on the back of his neck. They don't acknowledge him.

Itama hesitates because it truly takes him a moment to recognize who he's looking at, because his mouth has gone dry and his heart too fast. But even then, he recovers faster than Tobirama, who's gone deathly still.

"Hey, Tobi-nii." Itama's voice comes out rough. He tries for a smile, but in return Tobirama makes a choked off noise, he reaches out, but drops his hand before they touch, fingers twitching. He could have just been run through with a sword and the expression on his face wouldn't look out of place.

"Tobi-nii?" Izuna's voice interrupts them, high and shrill. Itama glances over and knows that he doesn’t really get it yet, doesn't believe it, or doesn't want to. Tobirama's eyes snap to him too.

"Whatever you're doing to seal his chakra, get it off him right now." He's furious. His voice cracks but it makes him sound more like the moments before a glacier breaks apart and starts and avalanche than anything weak.

Izuna whines in response, high pitched and confused.

"Tobi-nii?" He asks again, but does actually scramble to obey, for once. Obey Tobirama, which Itama knows will be a novelty to remember. He bites his thumb deep enough to draw blood and Itama easily bends his head forward enough to allow access to the seal. It's only a temporary solution, Itama knows, he'd managed to convince some Uchiha to do it for him a time or two, when the seal was still new and the sensation of having his chakra bound was still uncomfortable, but it's enough, for now.

The unfamiliar feeling of someone else's presence floods back, a sensation so nostalgic it makes heat prickle behind Itama's eyes. His brothers always had so much more chakra than him, and the disparity has only grown worse since he hasn't been able to train with his in years.

The feeling of Tobirama's chakra wrapping around his, prodding at it, checking it over, is as overwhelming as it ever was. Comforting, too.

"Itama." Tobirama breathes, jerking forward, "Otouto."

They're nearly the same height now, but Tobirama's hug engulfs him all the same. Tight enough that Itama can feel the tremble in his limbs, can feel the damp seep through his clothes where his older brother has buried his face in his shoulder and -- oh, he knows his memory has holes, but Tobirama never cried, did he? He always seemed so strong but the sight of him is enough to have him shaking apart and --

Itama feels the guilt creep in. He missed his brothers, he really had, but…

He'd been under surveillance, yes, and chakra bound, but deep down he knows that he didn't try to get back to them as hard as he should have. It was just… Easier. The Uchiha treated him kindly, for the most part. They didn't expect him to kill anyone, didn't try yell at him for feeling sad in front of them. The longer he stayed with them, the harder it was to think about leaving and going back and having to fight them. And then -- they'd managed to make peace, and he didn't have to, which is great, it really is, but up till now he'd been telling himself that his brothers were so strong that they could get by without him. That they'd grieve and move on and probably be better for it, not having to defend their weak baby brother all the time.

But all the time he'd spent in that plush cage, he'd known they were alive. And they'd thought, really thought, he was dead.

His tongue is too heavy behind his teeth to find the words for it, and before he can try there's another voice.

"Hey, Tobi, is that our guest or --"

Hashirama stops mid sentence, cutting himself off with a low, wounded sound.

He's gotten stupidly tall, Itama notes absently, and he grew out his hair, and even has the beginning of wrinkles around his mouth and eyes.

Itama didn't recognize his voice.

Itama swallows painfully, works his throat enough to croak out, "Hey, Hashi-nii."

Izuna whimpers. No one pays him any mind.

"Itama?" Hashirama says, looking and sounding faint. "I thought --- we didn't hope --"

"When they told us they had a Senju we didn't dare hope--" Tobirama's voice, still muffled in his shoulder, catches. "Even once we found out about the eyes, I knew that you were in disguise. I thought--"

He breaks off, somehow squeezing impossibly tighter.

Itama's eyes are locked over his shoulder on Hashirama, who's tears are already starting to run over his cheeks and onto the ground.

"It failed when I ran out of chakra." Itama's voice has fallen to a hoarse whisper, "They uh -- stopped. When they realized. Captured me instead. I--"

Hashirama has been approaching him slowly, as if he were a frightened animal, but he's finally close enough to reach out and cradle Itama's face in his hands. The burning behind his eyes finally gives way and Itama sobs.

"I'm sorry." He wheezes, "I-- I'm--"

"Oh, otouto, no." Hashirama circles around and pulls them both into another hug, but his voice is wavering too, "Whatever it is, you don't have to apologize for surviving, okay?"

None of them resist when Hashirama pulls them all down to sit on the ground right there on the engawa. He's buried his face in Itama's hair, and Itama can feel his lips moving over and over again in some silent prayer.

It's not the first time they've sat like this, he remembers now. The night after Kawarama's funeral--

He stops paying attention who how long they sit there, content and comfortable with the way they've surrounded him.

Itama thinks Tobirama must have gotten control of himself first, he's stopped trembling, but he seems content not to move just yet. Hepulls himself together with a few heaving breaths -- his arms are too pinned to wipe his face, so he does it on Tobirama's shirt instead, and doesn't get a single complaint for it.

They have… A lot to catch up on, he thinks. Them more than him, because his days tend to blend into a lot of reading and crafting and poking at Uchiha -- he stopped pretending he was looking for weaknesses years ago too, but he's a little less ashamed about that. He never wanted anyone to die, even before he got caught.

He glances up from his brothers shoulder and locks eyes with Izuna. He's not remotely surprised that he's stayed but the picture he paints, stiff and uncomfortable, leaning on the wall of the house and looking as far from casual as a man can get. It is, admittedly, a funny image.

"You're name isn't Itsuki." Izuna accuses, frown etched deep. Tobirama turns his head, and whatever look he shoots Izuna has him looking faintly green.

"…I don't think you can go by a something for a decade and a half and not have it become your name, at least a little." Itama ribs tiredly. But gods, he's so exhausted already, and he hasn't even gotten to any of the arguments he knows are going to happen, "But, I know that's not what you're asking, so… Uh… No. My name is Senju Itama."

He doesn't explain anything more. His brothers are still wrapped around him, so he's pretty sure he doesn't have to.

Surprisingly, it's Hashirama who speaks next, voice so controlled and even that it sounds threatening.

"Your clan," He says, "Has been holding my little brother prisoner for years. I really don't know what to do about that, to be honest!"

"He's --" Izuna sputters, going all prickly defensive in the face of the head and heir of the Senju clan staring him down with murderous intent, "We told you, alright? We protect people like him, even from their own clans who think sending out a kid to run messages in a war zone is a smart idea!"

Tobirama actually growls in response, and Itama sighs. He had been hoping to avoid this for a while longer at least, but…

"No one do anything stupid." He punctuates his point by knocking his shoulders into each of his brother's in turn. "They didn't treat me badly after taking me, and they didn't know who I was."

He'd had nearly all of the freedoms of any other blessed one by the end of the first year, and no one had been particularly unkind to him even before then. Most Uchiha considered him a victim of the Senju more than they did person from the clan.

"They sealed your chakra!" Tobirama protests.

"He was still a Senju!" Izuna insists, "Of course we couldn't let him--"

"You're not helping!" Itama cuts him off cheerfully. "My point is, that since the clans at peace now, I'm not a prisoner anymore, right?"

Izuna really doesn’t have the authority to make that decision, but putting him on the spot to flounder over it is as funny as Itama hoped it would be.

"Uh." He says gracefully, "Uh, I--"

"We're not giving him back." Hashirama announces, forcefully enough to shake Izuna from his stupor.

"Wh-- Now hold on." He scowls, "He's still our responsibility, you can't--"

"He's our family." Tobirama all but snarls, "Who you took, you're the one who can't--"

"I think," Itama starts and marvels at the way everyone's attention turns to him, "That this is a great argument for why I should get to move into the village, no?"

Hashirama laughs, loud and booming and still wet with tears. He leans over to rest his cheek on top of Itama's head.

"Yes." He agrees, "Yes, I think it is."

"Ah, Izuna-san, thanks for coming!"

"Sure." Izuna responds dully. As if he really had a choice. Hashirama has been duly elected the leader of this little mess that everyone is calling a village, and now Izuna is obligated to answer to him. To a Senju, which stings, but not so badly that he can't bear it. Mostly it hasn't been an issue, because so much of the work they've done to make this nonsense work is by committee -- but today it just might become one. The -- former, now, as of his election -- Senju clan head has really never had cause to talk to Izuna one on one like this.

His skin prickles as Hashirama leans back and activates a privacy seal. Izuna doesn't let the tension in his chest bleed over to his expression, since all that seal does it stop eavesdroppers. The security seal that would prevent him from leaving hasn't been touched. Maybe the Senju has noticed anyways, because he flashes Izuna a lopsided grin and leans back in that stupid home grown office chair of his.

"I hope you don't mind if a cut to the chase," He says, "There's a mission I want your thoughts on."

Something in his tone make's Izuna attention sharpen. It's ever so slightly different than normal. Calmer than usual, or maybe more serious. Whatever this is, it's gotten Hashirama to drop his usual buffoon act.  There's no scroll to be seen, so this mission is likely one of those, where linking paperwork to the deed is just too dangerous. Izuna has his done his fair share. He raises an eyebrow.

"Well I'm sure your brother has already said his piece. What's with all the secrecy for a second opinion?"

"Ah… No. I don't send Tobirama on missions like these for… A variety of reasons. And this one is very need to know."

"…Missions like?"

Izuna lets himself look suspicious, and Hashirama's smile dims, though, it doesn't fall completely. There's nothing that Hashirama should trust Izuna to do for over his own brother. So far the Senju hasn't seemed the type to eliminate his enemies by sending them on suicide missions, but Izuna is well aware that he still doesn't know the man well enough to know.

"The daimyo has asked us to assassinate a political rival of his. Make it look like an accident, you know how it is." Which is not the sort of mission the Uchiha have gotten in a long time. Those sorts of requests only go to the most well trusted and well placed in court, and neither the Uchiha or the Senju have been in that position for ages. As if reading his thoughts, Hashirama goes on, "I suspect this is a test, of sorts. And I thought, well, maybe it’s a good opportunity to test something out myself!"

Assuming that mission is real, someone's going to have to do it. Izuna crosses his arms and waits for an explanation. For once the Senju gets to the point.

"I've realized that as the Hokage I might be in need of some people who serve me directly instead of going through the mission office. And I thought…"

"Me?" And not his brother? If it were just an assassination mission, sure, Izuna can agree he's more suited to it since Tobirama is disgustingly unsubtle for a shinobi. But to do, what, act as an aide?

The Senju's stupid big brown eyes crinkle with another smile.

"You!" He agrees, "Really, if you've done even half of what Madara has told me you'd be perfect for this, and, well…" There's something sharp in the Senju's expression, a look Izuna isn't certain he can ever recall seeing there before, "When it comes to things like this, I thought it would be best if I asked someone who would keep me accountable."

He's insane, Izuna thinks, and not for the first time. He's either insane, or he's toying with us all. And if it's the latter, what the hell is Izuna supposed to do about it on his own? At least with this on offer he can keep a closer eye on him.

"I'll be telling my brother you sent me on a mission." He challenges.

The Senju's smile melts back into it's usual fake cheer, "I was thinking a delivery to rice country would be the perfect cover. I already have the wine you might have brought back as a souvenir!"

Izuna snorts, mostly out of disbelief with himself, and steps closer to lean over the desk. "Which I would give to nii-san and not to you, so don't you dare crack the seal on it. Now fill me in on the actual details."