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The mission had been brutal—an easy assassination of a member of the daimyo’s court turned bloody and frantic at the unexpected numbers guarding the target. Tobirama was successful, but he’d walked away with a few fractured ribs, a laceration on his scalp that needed stitched and covered before it turned septic, and a clean break in his wrist. Without enough chakra or supplies to care for the wounds himself aside from bracing them with strips torn from his shirt, his only choice was to run back to the Senju compound as quickly as his injuries would allow.
He was damn-near stumbling on his feet by the time he reached the no-man’s land separating the Senju and Uchiha territories. His chakra was depleted to the point that he’d had to give up on jumping from branch to branch for fear that he’d slip. He’d just stopped to sip his quickly dwindling water when he heard it—quiet crying. He froze, cursing his inability to sense chakra in his current state. When he heard raucous laughter, Tobirama crept forward on silent feet. He was a shinobi first and foremost, and a disturbance so close to his clan could not be ignored, no matter what state he was in.
When he was close enough to hear the words being spoken with cruel voices, Tobirama pressed his back against a tree trunk firmly, unwilling to give his position away before he’d gained as much intel as he could. He closed his eyes, focused on the crunch of feet on twigs and wet earth, on jeering laughs and harsh words, all while a child was still begging and crying. Tobirama tightened his fists in anger, holding in the whine that wanted to spring free at the sharp agony the move pulled from his wrist.
“Please,” a child’s voice begged, thick with tears. “I want to go home.” All that met the desperate plea was more laughter. Tobirama shoved down the part of him that wanted to rush to the child’s aid, his own condition be damned—that would only lead to death for him and no help for the child—and focused on the voices of the unknown adults. He counted four different laughs. Hopefully, none had remained silent. Four was already pushing it with the condition he’s in.
“Maybe we’ll give you back after we take what we want from you, hmm?” The cloying voice was accompanied by renewed whimpering from the child. Tobirama almost snarled. “We wouldn’t want those beautiful eyes to go to waste, would we? After all the work we’ve done to bring them out.”
Tobirama had a sinking feeling he knew which clan the child hailed from—the Uchiha’s sharingan would put a target on every one of their children’s backs for bloodline thieves. More alarming still was the comment about activating the child’s sharingan. As far as he’d been able to figure out, the dojutsu was activated by emotional trauma. It did not spell good things for the condition he’d find the poor thing in.
A litany of pleas were flowing from the child in a broken whisper. Tobirama couldn’t wait anymore. He unsheathed the tanto on his back, keeping his movements fluid and steady despite his wrist so as not to make a sound and alert his prey. Once his blade was held at the ready in front of him, he peaked around the tree to assess the enemies positions. His blood boiled at what he saw: three shinobi with the insignia of the Hagoromo Clan on their backs stood in a circle, caging in a small child with vicious smiles. What truly made him lose it was the fourth man, kneeling in front of the child, one hand holding his jaw firmly enough to bruise while his fingers dipped into the small boy’s socket as if he were about to yank his eye free with his bare hands.
Tobirama snarled and swung his tanto with all his strength, nearly splitting one of the men in two as he swung his legs up to kick the next closest man to the ground, using the momentum to swing his blade free and slice it through the third man’s heart as he elbowed the one he was currently straddling hard enough in the throat to break his wind pipe.
He stood and lunged toward the last man who’d yanked his hands free from the child’s face and was currently backing away slowly. As if that would save him. Tobirama lunged, careful not to step on the boy, swinging his tanto one final time to sever the man’s head from his body in one clean swing. That done, he slid his blade back into its sheath, unwilling to waste time on even a cursory cleaning of the blade when the boy’s sobs had ratcheted to an even higher volume at the display of violence.
He approached the boy, but when he cried harder and shuffled backward on his butt, Tobirama dropped where he stood, crossing his legs, and holding his hands up to appear as nonthreatening as he possibly could. The boy continued crying but stopped backing away—small victories, at least.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, trying to keep his voice soothing. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
The child sniffled and glanced up at him through the fringe of his bangs. Tobirama winced as he caught sight of the blood dripping from his eye and the bruise forming on his chin. He looked him over for other injuries and was relieved to see nothing else obviously wrong.
“What’s your name, little one?” he asked.
The child looked down at his lap, clearly hesitant to trust a stranger, no matter what he’d done to help him so far—or maybe because of it. He couldn’t be over six years old, and that was awfully young to witness such violence. Tobirama looked at the corpses surrounding them and winced. Perhaps he could have found a cleaner way to deal with the situation. Although perhaps not, what with his near-nonexistent chakra stores and the way his wrist was throbbing in agony now that his fury was abating.
“Kagami,” the boy said, voice barely above a quiet whisper.
Tobirama smiled softly at him, the expression turning more genuine when it made the child straighten and finally meet his eyes. “A pleasure to meet you,” he said. “I’m Tobirama.” He breathed a sigh of relief when that didn’t garner any reaction. The last thing he needed was to scare the poor thing even further.
This did leave him with quite the dilemma though. The violently spinning whirls of Kagami’s sharingan would make it impossible to bring him to the Senju compound. He was in no position to defend the boy, and he wouldn’t trust any of the elders not to attack in some maladjusted bid for revenge. Hashirama would never sanction such an action, of course, but there was no guarantee that he’d find him before things inevitably turned bloody.
The Uchiha compound was just as problematic, if in the opposite direction. Tobirama had no reason to believe that any Uchiha wouldn’t kill him on sight, especially with one of their obviously injured children in his arms. They’d take one look at the blood on Kagami’s face and slit his throat. He looked up at the tears streaming from the boy’s eyes and sighed. Well, that was that. There was no way he could subject the traumatized boy to his own clan. He’d just have to try his best to get out of this whole situation alive.
“Would you like to go home, Kagami?” he asked. The boy immediately burst into sobs, nodding vigorously as he leapt off the ground and ran full tilt into Tobirama’s arms. He reflexively tightened them around Kagami, suppressing the wince at his protesting ribs and wrist. He ran his fingers through the boy’s dirty hair as he cried into Tobirama’s shoulder, arms painfully tight around his ribs. “Alright, alright. Hush, it’ll be okay now, little one. I’ve got you.”
It took long minutes of soothing for his sobs to peter out into quiet snuffles. Tobirama cupped his small cheek to pull it away from the crook of his neck—now soaked with tearstains—so he could meet his eyes. He was relieved to see slate black eyes now instead of the potentially draining sharingan. He wiped the tear tracks and blood off Kagami’s cheeks using the relatively clean inside of his shirt sleeve.
“Are you ready to go, little one?” he asked.
Kagami nodded, lower lip wobbling as he buried his face back into Tobirama’s shoulder. With a bracing breath, Tobirama used both hands to lift the child into his arms. He was relieved when Kagami twined his arms around his neck tightly, taking some of the weight off his wrist and ribs. With a wince, he started walking toward the Uchiha compound, hoping to find a patrol rather than walk directly into the heart of his greatest enemies’ stronghold.
At his slow pace, it took nearly an hour to cross the Naka river into Uchiha territory and a few minutes more for him to be surrounded by an Uchiha patrol, hands on their kunai and blades, expressions unforgivingly hard. His arms tightened involuntarily. When Kagami whined in protest, he rubbed his cheek on top of the boy’s head in apology.
“I’ve come to return something your clan seems to have lost,” Tobirama said, voice steady despite his unease.
One of the Uchiha lunged toward him kunai raised, but another blocked him with his forearm, eyes never leaving Tobirama’s face.
“Go get Lord Madara,” he demanded. When no one moved, he snapped, “now!”
“Yes, Hikaku,” the man replied, breaking off into a dead run.
Tobirama stood, hands clutching Kagami tighter as he began to cry again. With a sigh, he settled the boy on his him so he could run his fingers through his hair. He ignored the threatening step a few of the shinobi took toward him before Hikaku snapped at them to back up. “Hush, Kagami,” he said, still clumsily petting the boy’s hair with his hand, broken wrist now throbbing viciously. “Your clan head is coming. It’ll be okay.”
Tobirama tried not to squirm under Hikaku’s quirked eyebrow. If he came out of this alive—and that was a big if—his reputation as the White Demon just might be irreparably tarnished.
“Tobi-ra,” Kagami said, voice shaking. “Lord Madara is coming?”
That bastard was smiling now, eyebrow still raised in question. Tobirama sighed, shoulders drooping. It was all over now. His hard-won reputation ruined by one cute brat. His Father would be rolling in his grave.
“Yes, little one, he’s coming,” he said, idly wondering if perhaps Madara would still be willing to kill him, so he never had to see any of these assholes ever again.
Kagami cheered, leaping up to wrap his arms around Tobirama’s neck once more in a tight hug, making him have to lunge to keep the boy steady, unable to keep in the gasp of pain as his wrist bent further in the wrong direction, bones rubbing together. Hikaku was frowning at him now. Tobirama glared right back as everything devolved into charged silence as they waited for Madara to turn arrive.
When the runner finally returned, Madara and Izuna were right behind him. Tobirama winced as the two came to a shocked halt. That’s it, he was dead. There was no way his rival wasn’t going to lunge for his throat as soon as Kagami was safe. Well, at least he’d completed his self-imposed mission before his demise.
“What the fuck am I looking at?” Izuna demanded.
At his voice, Kagami turned around in his arms before jumping down with a shout of “shishou!” The boy ran to Madara latching onto his legs with a relieved wail. Madara bent down to pick up the boy, settling him on his own hip. Now surrounded by enemies without even the buffer of Kagami’s body, Tobirama was torn between drawing his tanto and collapsing from the pain that had erupted in his side when Kagami’s shoe had connected with his ribs, making the shards of his pulverized bones rub together. He could only hope the move hadn’t punctured any vital organs.
“Tobi-ra killed the bad men before they took my eye!” Kagami said, smiling up at Madara even while tears continue to fall. Tobirama winced at the flinch of Madara’s shoulders. Bloodline thieves had to be one of the man’s biggest fears for his clan. “It was scary, but he was so cool! And his hair is really soft, and his eyes are red like ours! Can we keep him Mada-shishou?”
Tobirama winced as Madara whipped his head up to gape at him. He bid a mental farewell to his reputation. Although Kagami just might have punctured his lung with his little jumping stunt, so it might not be his problem anymore, what with the way his breathing was turning embarrassingly ragged.
“What the fuck, Senju?” Izuna screeched.
“I believe he’s rather injured,” Hikaku said, interrupting the awkward silence that followed Izuna’s exclamation. “He winced when Kagami jumped down.”
“I hurt Tobi-ra?” Kagami asked, eyes wide and panicked as he jumped out of Madara’s arms, neatly evaded the man’s lunge, and ran back to Tobirama’s side. His small hands patted Tobirama’s waist gently, as if seeking hidden injuries as Tobirama continued to struggle for breath. “I’m sorry! Are you okay? Please, tell me you’re okay!”
Tobirama took in two more ragged breaths, fell sideways in an ungainly heap, and held onto consciousness by the last dregs of his will to live. The last thing he saw was Madara’s sharingan eyes as he fell unconscious, idly wondering if it’d be the last thing he’d ever see. At least if he died, he wouldn’t have to face the indignity of being taken out by a child.
***
Tobirama was surprised to wake up. Chakra still too low to sense his surroundings, he kept his eyes closed, trying to take stock. He could hear the shuffling of papers somewhere across the room, a sniffle near his bedside, an annoyed sigh from farther away.
“Stop moping about, he’s going to be fine,” Madara said.
“Are you sure, shishou?” Kagami asked, voice wobbling. “I can’t have killed him after he saved me.”
The tears audibly thickening the boy’s voice almost had him opening his eyes, danger be damned. He forced himself to settle down and muddle out his position. His arm was no longer in agony, and his breathing felt natural once more. Had they…healed him? Why?
“The brat will be fine,” Izuna said from further away than the other two. Tobirama wanted to roll his eyes at the asshole calling him a brat. He was fairly sure Izuna was even younger than him.
“Promise?” Kagami asked. His small hand reached out to take Tobirama’s own, fingers gentle, as if afraid to further hurt him. Tobirama sighed and opened his eyes.
“I’m fine, Kagami.” The boy shrieked, clutching his hand tighter as tears slid down his cheeks once more. Tobirama smiled gently at the boy before looking past him to eye the other two Uchiha in the room suspiciously. “Why am I still alive?”
Madara sputtered at the abrupt question. Behind him, Izuna demanded, “What kind of question is that, bastard?” voice screeching. Tobirama winced as a pounding headache made itself known.
“A realistic one?” Tobirama answered.
“You can’t kill him, Mada-shishou!” Kagami wailed, forgetting Tobirama’s previously injured state to launch himself into the bed, covering as much of Tobirama’s body that he could, as if to shield him from his relatives.
“We’re not going to kill him!” Madara said, sounding affronted at the very notion.
“Why not?” Tobirama asked. “No one knows I’m here. You won’t get such an advantageous opportunity again.”
“Are you trying to get us to kill you?” Izuna demanded, coming up to stand next to his brother, eyes wild as he gaped at Tobirama.
Tobirama sighed and slid his arms around Kagami to support his small body as he sat up to face the pair. “Of course not,” he said. “I’m merely trying to determine what my fate will be.”
“Your fate?” Madara asked inanely.
“Yes,” Tobirama said, tone conveying how ridiculous he found the question. “I’m chakra depleted in enemy territory. It would be stupid not to be concerned.”
The Uchiha’s continued to gawk at him while Kagami cried in his lap about his savior’s safety. Tobirama sighed, wrapping his arms tightly around the boy to comfort him, since neither of his kin seemed able to pull themselves enough together to do it themselves.
Madara cleared his throat pointedly before speaking, “You have done us a service by returning Kagami,” he said, voice grave. “In light of this, we’ve healed your immediate injuries and are willing to allow you to return to the Senju compound unharmed as repayment.”
Tobirama blinked at the man. “That seems rather stupid,” he said, bulldozing over Madara’s sputtering and Izuna’s shocked laughter, “but far be it from me to ignore such a generous offer.”
Kagami cheered at the confirmation that Tobirama would be safe, bouncing up and down excitedly in his lap.
“Will you come back to visit?” Kagami asked.
“I don’t think that will be possible,” he said, smile wry as he strokes the small boy’s hair.
“But I’ll miss you!” Kagami whined. “And I want you to be my sensei! You’re so strong and cool. Won’t you? Please, Tobi-ra-sensei, won’t you?”
Tobirama winced as he met Kagami’s excited eyes. That sounded…nice. But it would be impossible. If anything, he’d be much more likely to face the child in battle in the future—more likely to strike him down then to teach him how to be strong. His breath hitched at the thought. He cupped Kagami’s cheek and pushed the thoughts down.
“I’m sorry, little one, but it wasn’t meant to be.”
Kagami’s lower lip wobbled, threatening tears. Tobirama patted him on the head, before looking up at the wide-eyed Uchiha brothers.
“Would I be able to leave now?” he asked, knowing a clean break from Kagami would be better for the boy. “Hashirama will be worried.”
“Right,” Madara said, voice faint. “Follow me.”
Tobirama patted Kagami a few more times before standing and following Madara out the door, unable to suppress the wince at the boy’s cries for him to stay. Madara shifted his gaze to Tobirama’s face, and he wiped it clean of expression once more. His reputation might be hanging on by a thread, but there was no reason to grab the shovel and burry it himself.
“You’re good with kids,” Madara said.
Tobirama hummed, but otherwise ignored the man’s prodding. Madara waited, clearly hoping for something more before sighing and breaking the silence himself. “Why did you help him?” he asked. “You had to have known he was an Uchiha.”
Well, he supposed he’d rather dig his own grave after all. “No child deserves what Kagami was about to suffer,” Tobirama replied firmly. “And I would never leave any to endure such a fate, especially not for something like a ridiculous clan feud.”
Madara’s eyes were wide. Clearly his reputation as the White Demon had been effective in painting him as a warmonger—how any could believe growing up with Hashirama wouldn’t leave a mark on his world views was beside him. If anyone should have known better, it was the man beside him.
“I was under the impression you hated the Uchiha, regardless of age,” Madara said.
Tobirama shot him a mutinous glare. “We’re at war. I fail to see how you would know my opinion on anything,” he said, talking over Madara when the man made to interrupt him. “And killing opponents on a battlefield is hardly the same thing as letting an innocent child be murdered in cold blood.”
That shut Madara up for a few short moments as they continued down the unfamiliar hallway. Tobirama used the opportunity to try and map the terrain—you never knew what would come in handy. After all, they were still at war.
“But—” Madara said then stalled, “but why’d you bring him here?”
“As if I’d be stupid enough to bring him to the Senju,” he said. “Most of my clan may have been swayed by Hashirama’s pleas for peace, but I was hardly in a position to defend Kagami from any who might seek to harm him.”
“You weren’t in any shape to defend yourself from us either,” Madara pointed out.
Tobirama chose not to reply. The walk out of the compound and subsequent jog to the border of the Uchiha’s territory was uncomfortably silent and charged. When they finally reached the river, Madara turned to him and bowed lower than propriety demanded a clan head ever should.
“Thank you, Tobirama Senju.”
Tobirama met his eyes, startled. He nodded, turned his back, and bolted away from the uncomfortable situation. And when he saw Hashirama, he mentioned nothing of the strange run-in, happy to put it behind him and move on.
***
Tobirama had been working his way steadily through a scroll on sealing when Hashirama’s wailing interrupted his focus. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Couldn’t his brother at least learn to be quieter if he was going to be so emotional all the time? He pulled the scroll back toward him, refusing to let his progress be interrupted by Hashirama’s unnecessary dramatics.
That plan of action was interrupted by said man throwing Tobirama’s bedroom door open without even a knock. Without looking up from his reading, he reprimanded, “How many times have I told you to knock?”
Any further complaints were interrupted by his brother running full tilt into his back and wrapping him up in an uncomfortably tight hug. Within seconds, he could feel tears soaking into his scalp. “But isn’t it wonderful, brother?” Hashirama asked, voice warbling in watery joy.
“How would I know?” Tobirama demanded. He relented and patted his brother’s back comfortingly. The oaf was clearly not going to leave him alone anytime soon, so he might as well figure out what the latest tantrum was about. “Perhaps if you told me what you were referring to?”
Hashirama pulled back from him with a sob and spun Tobirama’s chair around rapidly enough to make him queasy before shoving a tear-logged scroll in his face. “Madara agreed to a ceasefire!”
Tobirama looked down at the paper with renewed interest. Not only did the man agree to a ceasefire, but he’d requested a meeting in neutral territory to go over a more permanent peace treaty in the near future. After turning down Hashirama’s continuous whining for peace between their clans, this change of heart was unexpected. And deeply suspicious.
“I wonder what changed his mind?” Hashirama said, eyes still sparkling brightly with tears. “Do you think I finally got through to him?”
Tobirama thought of Kagami—who would have most definitely died just the week before if not for his own timely intervention—and had a sinking suspicion about this turn of events. Hashirama must never know. He’d be even more insufferable then usual. “I’m sure you did,” he said, patting him on the shoulder once more and trying to keep the dread out of his voice. This could get ugly, if not for the clan, then for him specifically. Suiton user or not, Hashirama was liable to drown him in his tears if he ever found out about little Kagami. Best not to even think on it.
***
Tobirama looked coolly across the table at the Uchiha brothers and did his best not to glower. The last few hours had been grueling, with each of them offering up and then arguing against more and more outlandish demands from their clan elders. Madara’s voice was starting to turn gravely with all the shouting he’d been doing, and Hashirama’s just as hoarse from all his crying. It was frankly embarrassing all around, and by the commiserating looks Izuna kept shooting him—and wasn’t that an unexpected turn of events—he felt the same.
Now the buffoons were talking about their damn village again, as if there was any chance of that before peace had been secured solidly between their clans. If they tried to shove them all together now, the casualties would be extensive. Pointing that out would make his brother cry again though, so he kept his lips shut tightly and prayed for patience. When they were finally done, everyone stood, shaking hands solemnly until Hashirama vaulted over the table to pull Madara into a tight hug that the Uchiha complained about. Loudly
“Brother, let go of the Uchiha clan head,” Tobirama barked. “They’re going to interpret this as an assassination attempt, and then where will your peace be?”
That predictably sent Hashirama into echoing wails once more as he patted Madara down, as if to assure himself that he hadn’t accidentally stabbed him while he wasn’t paying attention. Izuna’s eyes were bugging out with shock as he eyed the spectacle next to him, inching away from Hashirama, clearly afraid his person may be assaulted next. Knowing his brother, that was likely.
“Did you ever think we’d make it here?” Hashirama asked, smiling dopily down at Madara.
Madara quirked his lips up at the man in a far more guarded, if still sincere smile. “No.” he said quietly. “No, I didn’t.”
“What changed your mind?” Hashirama asked.
Tobirama backed away on silent feet. He knew where this was going, and he wasn’t interested in suffering the consequences. His fears were confirmed when both Uchiha’s turned to him with identical looks of confusion. “He didn’t tell you?” Madara asked.
“Tell me what?” Hashirama asked, looking between the three of them uncertainly. When his eyes met Tobirama’s, Tobirama froze, a predator faced with an even bigger one. “Tobirama?”
“Leave me out of this,” Tobirama ordered.
The dawning smile on Madara’s face sent chills down his spine. “Well, you see,” Madara started with a self-satisfied grin, “if even your brother who’s reported to hate the Uchiha the most in your clan was willing to go out of his way to save an Uchiha child, the rest of you Senju can’t all be terrible, can they ?”
“Tobira?” Hashirama asked, tears already dripping down his face. “You did that?”
“This is slander,” he replied.
“I don’t think it counts as slander if it’s true,” Izuna said, placing a faux-thoughtful finger on his chin, the traitor.
Hashirama squealed and lunged just as Tobirama stepped neatly behind Izuna. Without hesitation, Hashirama plucked the wrong brother up and swung him around in a suffocating hug. “I’m so happy,” he cried, joyous tears still streaming.
Tobirama vaulted over the table to stand behind Madara instead. He resisted the urge to stab the man’s unprotected back. He’d deserve it for selling Tobirama out, but it wouldn’t be worth the political fallout. Probably not. He shouldn’t. His murder plans were foiled when Madara turns to him with a judgmental brow raised.
“Fibbing on your mission reports?” Madara asked. “That won’t stand when we get the village up and running, you know.”
Scoffing, Tobirama lifted his brow imperiously. “As if you wouldn’t do the same to avoid all that,” he said, gesturing at where Izuna was turning purple in his brother’s arms.
Madara laughed but didn’t reply. They stood, side by side watching Izuna try to kill Hashirama while his brother cried about new bonds of friendship, while his mokuton came up in defense against Izuna’s thrown kunai.
“Maybe Kagami will be able to have his choice of sensei after all, once all of this is settled,” Madara said. Tobirama startled at the hesitant rub of a palm up and down his forearm. He looked over to see Madara smiling over at him gently before dropping his hand and looking over at their brothers once more.
Looking at that smile, Tobirama couldn’t help but think of a kinder future. One where he’d see Kagami again, spend time with him, be able to make sure he was strong enough to survive, and never, ever have to see his face on the other side of a battlefield. One where he got to see the man beside him smile just like that instead of the snarling, vicious monster he’d always seen on the other side of the battlefield. One where Izuna’s force is dulled from a deadly attack into something softer, a sparring partner instead of a rival. He couldn’t quite see it, but maybe.
“Perhaps,” he said, a small, secretive grin on his own lips as he wondered.