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They bring the prisoner to the compound's towering wooden gate.
Tobirama watches, arms crossed over his blood-stained blue armor, the stench of death still smoldering in his nostrils, and his ninjatō handle warm to the touch. He'd been on the battlefield mere minutes ago, but then his brother called for a sudden retreat that no doubt perplexed the Uchiha.
Yet the loss was negligible in the face of the boon they'd gotten for it.
A simple black palanquin is carried into the compound, the gate creaking closed behind the quartet hefting it on their shoulders. The ride is supposed to be comfortable, the tatami mats inside meant to ease the strain on the prisoner's knees, but Tobirama knows a cage when he sees one. And he needn't mold chakra to sense the strangle-tight seals locking the prisoner's chakra.
The gate closes with a resounding bang. Past the palanquin's dark lacquer bars, the shadow of the prisoner's head hangs low. The boy knows his imprisonment is well and truly complete.
Evidently, Hashirama does not, the clan head teetering back and forth with a restless energy, gnawing his lip and rubbing his hands.
Tobirama stares pointedly at him, and his brother stills, whispering, "Sorry, sorry…"
Hashirama peers wide-eyed at the approaching palanquin, hopeful, anxious, expressions open for all to see. Tobirama internally rolls his eyes. This will not work as his brother hopes.
The original plan—to simply capture the boy—had a high chance of failure. But now that their plan has switched from 'capture' to 'use'…
There will be no peace today.
The carriers stop before Hashirama and bow. Hashirama waves them on, and they carry the palanquin to the expansive, green tent set up beside the medical lodge. His brother is swift to follow.
Pale fingers catch Hashirama's wrist. The clan head stops, glancing back. "Tobi?"
Tobirama's eyes narrow. "This won't work, Anija."
Hashirama's face pinches, but he shakes his head. "I know you have your doubts, but I'm sure he can be reasoned with."
He slips his hand out of Tobirama's hold and rushes after the men, long hair flying. Then he shoves aside the tent flap, slipping into the warm light inside before the cloth falls closed behind him.
Tobirama glares.
"Naivety."
He shakes his head, but strides after his brother in dusk's bright yet dark light, his long shadow following.
"I'm very, very, very sorry we've had to meet under these circumstances."
Hashirama's weepy voice greets Tobirama while he pushes aside the tent flap, slipping into the warm, yellow glow of the lanterns lining the roof.
The palanquin is open, abandoned off to the side. And upon a pillow in the tent's center, the prisoner kneels.
Gag wound around his mouth, blindfold tied firmly over his eyes, and shackles tying back his hands and securing his ankles. The teenager sits with his head bowed, his spiky raven locks curling loosely over his uchiwa-engraved headband, and chakra radiating a submissive aura. Yet his rigid shoulders and flexing toes say he's merely biding his time.
Hashirama is more sightless than the blinded Uchiha as he kneels before the boy, eyes wet and expression mournful. "This isn't ideal, but I promise we're not going to hurt you."
He quiets, waiting. The boy says nothing, still as a statue.
Hashirama frowns but quickly continues. "We've had an outbreak, and we know you have a unique chakra ability that can heal any ailment."
He waits again. The boy keeps his peace. Tobirama can't blame him. He knows he's a prisoner; Hashirama's platitudes don't change this.
The Senju head is the only one unaware of this as he bites his lip. "We need you to heal as many as you can." He reaches for the boy's gag. "Just let me get that—"
"Stop."
The boy moves. It's minute, hardly more than a twitch of his cheek, but for all his stillness, it's practically a flinch. Quite the muscle control on this one.
Tobirama shoves that thought aside, snapping, "He can spit out chakra senbon laced with deadly poison." He inclines his head at the boy. "He killed seven men during his capture with that jutsu alone."
Hashirama blinks owlishly. "A-ah."
He swiftly lowers his hand, but turns to the boy, face falling. "Sorry. I'll just lead you then."
He grabs the boy's arm and pulls him up. Tobirama scowls, but bends down and unlocks the chains around the Uchiha's ankles. They drop with a clank on the pillow, and Hashirama smiles.
"There, that should feel better." The clan head leads the Uchiha out of the tent, keeping a slow pace in a surprising show of mindfulness to his prisoner's state.
Tobirama watches, mouth a line. This will not work; this will not end the war as Hashirama wishes.
Certainly, peace will be achieved.
But only through submission.
Through the barred window of the medical lodge, the Uchiha is lowered beside the ailing shinobi laid out on plain, sterile futons, rows and rows of them stretching across the floor. Tobirama is certain the Uchiha knows the truth as well.
So he's unsurprised when Hashirama rolls up the Uchiha's sleeve, and the boy rams his elbow into Anija's face.
Tobirama is the one who notices.
As he cuts down one screaming Uchiha and the man crumples, blood splattering through the air, he realizes this is the same Uchiha who had been stabbed in the lungs with a kunai. Yet he'd rushed Tobirama, no kunai in his chest or wound weeping through his tall-collared shirt.
Tobirama hastily moves his fingers through several seals and flips over a dozen senbon, stabbing the dirt where he'd been. He spits out a tidal wave of water through his mouth, flooding the Uchiha trio running under him. Their screams meld with the grunts and clangs of the battlefield while Tobirama lands in a crouch, tossing back a kunai.
It stabs a kunohchi in the arm. She staggers, clutching the wound and glaring her Sharingan eyes hatefully at him. Yet Tobirama molds chakra, concentrating. She tears out the kunai and runs at him with the bloodied blade raised, screaming vengeance.
Tobirama easily sidesteps her lunge and chops her in the back. Bones crack, and she folds like a puppet without strings, but Tobirama simply stares at her on the ash-ridden dirt. No blood pools under her body. He'd thrown that kunai at a major artery, yet she doesn't bleed…she'd been healed.
Flames lick Tobirama's side, but his shadow clone slides in front of him, shielding him with his blade. Tobirama doesn't bat an eye at his attacker, concentrating on the chakra trail leaking from the kunoichi, trailing into the battlefield's edge—
"Die!"
Tobirama's arm shoots up, wrist armor bracing under Izuna's war fan. Izuna screams in rage, Sharingan blazing, and swings his foot towards Tobirama's. No more time to think.
Tobirama flips away and throws himself back into the never-ending war.
…
The next time Tobirama is on the battlefield, he drifts towards the back.
Between the silver crags that lead up to the mountain behind the fighting, Tobirama holds the tiger seal, eyes closed in concentration. His clone fights in his place to avoid suspicion, while his own chakra is wound tight inside him in case any sensors scan the area.
He waits…waits…there.
An Uchiha is stabbed through the back with three shuriken, and the sheer force catapults him across the blue sky, his mouth agape in a soundless yell. He hits the stone headfirst with a crunch and slides down, his blood streaking the stone. He should be dead in seconds…
Chakra surges towards the crumpled Uchiha. It floods his chakra system, washing his veins. Bones fuse back together, organs stitch themselves up, and poison is lugged out of his blood and tissues. Tobirama follows the chakra.
Stars spiraling in the dark.
Tobirama chokes.
Lanterns twirling on the hanging string.
Fire nature…an Uchiha…but…
Tobirama's eyes snap open, sweat running down his face. The chakra…it's kind, warm.
He cranes his neck towards the mountains. An Uchiha observes the battlefield of hate, yet he feels no anger, no despair. Rather, sympathy tolls like a bell inside him.
Tobirama has never faced an Uchiha who looked upon him and smiled.
The prisoner collapses on the futon, hair plastered to his face and panting harshly into his gag.
Tobirama stands in the doorway, arms crossed and blocking the hallway light from the dark bedroom. Purple, bite-shaped bruises crawl up the Uchiha's arms and ankles, some even marring his neck. The boy merely pants as Tobirama steps into the room, the floorboards creaking in announcement of his approach.
Tobirama bends down beside the discarded red armor his brother wrestled the Uchiha out of, giving the ill better access to his skin.
"You're too chakra depleted to be a threat," he says, the only warning he gives.
Then he reaches for the boy's blindfold, unwinding the cloth from his eyes and slipping it down to his neck. The boy merely breathes harshly while he undoes the knot tying his gag and pulls the damp cloth out of his mouth.
The Uchiha's breaths are much louder now, his eyes squeezed closed. Tobirama frowns. Hashirama had overdone it.
He'd seen how they dragged the boy from one diseased person to the next, how the Uchiha struggled until a mouth latched onto his arm, his neck, drawing out his remarkable healing chakra. Even though Hashirama refilled the boy's reserves six times, the healing must have been draining. He did save 67 patients after all.
Tobirama pops open a jar of ointment. He lightly applies it to the Uchiha's bruised arms, frowning at the heat radiating off his skin. Anija really overdid it.
The boy's panting slows as Tobirama works to slather every discoloration. By the time he's completed the task, the Uchiha's face is clear, his breathing deep and even. Asleep, armor off, the boy looks younger.
Tobirama pulls the sleeves back down the boy's arms, removes his sandals, and drapes a blanket over the prisoner. Then he grabs the ointment jar and takes his leave.
Hashirama is ecstatic when Tobirama tells him.
He grins from ear to ear and clutches Tobirama's arms. The younger grimaces, but Hashirama gushes, "This is it, Tobi! We can finally end the war!"
His voice rings out of his office, loud enough to be heard by the neighboring school.
Tobirama scowls. "Simply because an Uchiha doesn't hate us doesn't guarantee he'll like us—"
"But you said it yourself!" Hashirama shakes him excitedly, like a puppy with a new stick. "His chakra is warm, kind! And with me to guide him—"
"That may change after he's kidnapped." Tobirama scoffs.
Hashirama pauses. "Kidnap—" He sputters, shaking his head. "It's tradition."
"Our tradition." Tobirama glowers. "And we've only ever used it on allied clans." His voice darkens. "You know the Uchiha would never accept such a tradition, even if we were neutral parties, their dōjutsu is too great to risk."
Hashirama's lips purse, eyes drawing down. "But Madara knows we're not Kekkei Genkai thieves. Never has the Senju clan wronged the Uchiha in such a way."
Tobirama snorts. "Only because our ancestors preferred a dead Uchiha to a living one."
Hashirama goes rigid, and he stares at him, gaze searching. Tobirama's eyes narrow, sensing the shift in the air, the thickening atmosphere around them.
"And…you, Tobirama?" Dark eyes peer at him, skin creasing at their corners. "Do you think a dead Uchiha is better than an imprisoned one?"
Tobirama's face hardens. Hashirama doesn't back down, but stares back. He knows what his anija wants to hear.
And Tobirama denies him the assurance.
"Only if they're proven a threat," he says gruffly.
Hashirama keeps peering at him. "And if that threat…is an Uchiha child?"
Tobirama's eyes flash. "Neither Senju nor Uchiha would harm an underage shinobi."
Hashirama's shoulders ease, his red robe resettling at the movement. Tobirama's face grows colder. His brother had been expecting a harsher response. Tobirama is used to being misjudged, but still…but still…
Hashirama claps his hands. "Then it's settled." He beams. "We'll bring him in as soon as possible."
Tobirama grits his teeth, but he nods, closing his eyes.
"Yes, Anija."
This battle is lost long before it begins.
The Uchiha stares vacantly across the short table.
Tobirama's pale blue yukata rubs uncomfortably against his skin, the summer heat sticking the cloth to his body. Hashirama spreads out his long, robed arms, wishing a good morning.
The Uchiha doesn't notice, his dark raven eyes on the pale shoji hiding the garden. Sunlight gleams through the paper door, brightening its drawing of a tree with a thousand branches, leaves sparse along its bark.
Hashirama smiles, but it's strained.
"So," his brother says nervously, and Tobirama resists pinching his nose in frustration. "Last night…you seemed a bit reluctant to heal."
Hashirama's face falls. "Do you, um, want to talk about why?"
The Uchiha blinks languidly.
Tobirama scoffs. His brother turns to him in surprise, but Tobirama is already speaking.
"Really, Anija? You don't understand why an Uchiha might not enjoy healing enemy shinobi? Enemies who will be returning to the battlefield shortly, thanks to his healing jutsu? Who may go up against his cousin, his friend, maybe a sibling…and take their life?"
Hashirama blanches, brown eyes huge. The Uchiha, though, has finally looked up from the door.
His raven eyes are on Tobirama. He matches his stare. The Uchiha looks away.
"O-oh." Hashirama whips back to the boy, hair lashing behind him. "I didn't think—"
His eyes glisten, regret staining his face. The Uchiha is unmoved.
So, Hashirama reluctantly moves on. "Well." He deflates. "I can limit your healing to the civilians. Surely, you're not opposed to that?"
The boy stares vacantly at the shoji.
Hashirama nods, taking it for agreement.
"Well, besides our need for your healing chakra, there is another reason we brought you here."
He brings his hands together, beaming.
And Tobirama can't keep up the farce. So he looks the Uchiha in the eyes.
"You're being adopted."
The Uchiha's brow scrunches, noticeably despite his headband. Hashirama gapes.
Tobirama crosses his arms. "As per tradition, you will take up position as an honorary Senju for a full year. During this time, you will be treated and cared for as part of the clan. We will provide for your needs, training, and educate you in our ways."
He nods towards Hashirama. "The Senju head will be your host parent, and you will live with him, his wife, and children for the full 365 days."
His eyes narrow. "However, access to your chakra will be limited, and you're forbidden from leaving Senju grounds for the full year." His voice hardens. "Any restraints needed to ensure you do so will be employed."
"Tobi!" Hashirama gasps, aghast. "You make it sound like he's a prisoner!"
Tobirama levels a look at him. The Uchiha ducks, hiding his expression.
Hashirama is oblivious as he whips towards the boy. "You're not a prisoner!" He waves him down frantically. "This tradition is simply meant to foster the bonds of friendship between our clans." He cups his hands over his heart, eyes softening. "You will be returned unharmed to your clan once the year is over, but during your visit, we hope that you will not only learn our customs, but impart some of your own onto us."
Hashirama reaches over and catches the boy's shoulder. Tobirama doesn't miss the wince, his skin still bruised.
"This could be the very first step towards fostering peace between our clans and putting an end to our ceaseless conflict." Hashirama's eyes shimmer. "I've already sent word to Madara, and while he may not be happy about it, I really think this could make things better for us all."
Tobirama huffs. It certainly can't make things worse. That, and the disease ravaging their clan, is the only reason he agreed to this idea.
"You're safe here." Hashirama pats his shoulder and takes his hand back. "On my word as Senju head," he promises, foolishly, in this world of broken promises.
"And I know it's a little strange, but you'll learn to love it—everyone does!"
He goes on to say how his children are around the Uchiha's age, and he hopes they'll be friends—ooh, do you like seafood? My wife makes the best tempura—
Tobirama molds his chakra. The boy stiffens, eyes snapping to him. His scarlet eyes burn into raven.
The Uchiha looks away, his chakra swiftly folding into himself. Yet he can't hide his horror as Hashirama tears his world apart and condemns him to a cavernous unknown.
The Uchiha completes his healing. Tobirama watches again through the barred window as an ill woman sinks her teeth into the boy's neck, another already biting his arm, and the Uchiha goes rigid, choking soundlessly into his gag.
It looks painful and debilitating. The boy probably can't even form a simple jutsu while he's healing, his entire chakra system too busy with crafting those special antibodies… Good. The welcoming ceremony is tonight, and it's for the best if the Uchiha is too exhausted to even think about escape.
The Uchiha sags, and the patients pull off him. Without preamble, two shinobi drag the boy to his feet. He stumbles between them, tired, worn, and blinded by the cloth over his eyes.
Tobirama waits for them at the door, arms folded over his chest and face cold. The two Senju exit the brightly lit lodge, inside lights falling over Tobirama's visage.
"Leave him."
The Senju give short bows and release the Uchiha. He crumples immediately, and Tobirama snatches his arm, hauling him. The boy chokes into his gag, and Tobirama switches his grip to wrap around his waist, red eyes falling on the dark bruise he inadvertently touched.
He'll have to take care of that. So, Tobirama leads the boy over to the storage shed across the road.
Fireflies dance at their backs, the candles still not lit on the street lanterns. In the stillness of the night, the Uchiha sags against him, breathing into his shoulder. Tobirama detects no treacherous intent, so he allows it.
Inside the shed, he eases the boy down on the bench before the wall of weapons and sits across from him.
"I have to dress you for the ceremony."
He waits a second for that to register. Then he reaches for the boy's gag, untying it from the back of his head and pulling it down to his neck.
Repeating the same procedure as last night, the boy is quickly bathed in ointment, his cuffs removed. His clothes are taken, but the boy does nothing but stare at the shadows in a daze while Tobirama slips his arms through a pastel green kimono, folding it over his chest and tying a glittering gold obi around his waist. It reminds him a bit of a bow on a present, though he doubts the boy would find the comparison amusing.
Tobirama wipes away such thoughts and reaches for the boy's headband. The Uchiha flinches. His pale fingers pause over the boy's head.
The boy's face goes blank, but they both know he glimpsed the vulnerability. A shinobi should never reveal such sentiment…but he is part of the clan now. They must care for his needs, physically and emotionally.
So he reaches for the uchiwa-engraved headband, tugging it off his head. "I will put it with your clothes and armor, to be returned upon your departure."
The boy's lips press together. Tobirama wasn't expecting an answer, and merely folds the headband, setting it upon the Uchiha's already folded clothes. Then he reshackles the boy's wrists and pulls him up.
As they walk back towards the waiting black palanquin, lamp lights flickering on, Tobirama wonders if he imagines the boy squeezing his hand before he's pulled away towards the cart.
Large taiko drums are played from atop the curvature of the compound walls. The rhythmic beat resounds down to the fire-lit stage.
Silver bells shake and tremble in the hands of the dancing Senju circling the stage. Some even play their bamboo flutes, pitched notes puncturing the sky and adding to the pandemonium that is the welcoming festival.
Tobriama hangs by the towering walls, trapped between the shadows and light from the paper lanterns hanging overhead. He surveys the crowd gravely, checking for any unauthorized persons. If Madara was going to make a move to get back his boon of a healer, now would be the time.
A drunk couple staggers past him, and Tobirama wrinkles his nose. He'll never understand how people enjoy a burning liquid that dulls the senses.
Raucous laughter heralds from the stage. His red eyes slide over.
Hashirama leans drunkenly against his perfectly composed wife, who merely sips her cup while his hand slaps the long table. Tobirama eyes them for a moment. Then he glances at the captive beside them.
Two wide-rimmed torches burn on each side of the stage, flames flickering on the Uchiha sitting before the banquet. He sits perfectly straight, kneeling on the pillow before the steaming food. His plate is empty, spotless as his expression. Somehow, without his headband to keep back his spiky-curly locks, he looks younger.
Perhaps others see this, too. Because Hiruzen wanders over to the boy, the Sarutobi being the latest clan to merge with the Senju as their war with the Uchiha stretches devastation further and further across the Land of Fire.
Danzo trails Hiruzen, the Shimura clan being another new addition to the Senju ranks. Both are his students, and while Danzo is most studious, Hiruzen's genius is often his undoing.
Tobirama tenses, ready to spring into action.
Hiruzen pokes the Uchiha's shoulder and swiftly pulls his hands behind his back, clearly hiding something. Tobirama frowns. Surely the Sarutobi knows now isn't the time for a prank—
The Uchiha turns his way, dark eyes staring past the other teen, expressionless. Hiruzen smiles warmly, reaches into the folds of his violet robe, and pulls out a white package—a gift. He sets it on the Uchiha's empty plate, mouth moving.
The Uchiha's expression doesn't change, but he bows his head respectfully. Hiruzen beams and elbows Danzo, nearly bowling him over. The reserved Shimura crosses his arms. Yet he slips a pouch from his sleeve and sets it beside the other gift.
The Uchiha glances contemplatively at the presents before he's stoic once more, granting Danzo a bow. That's enough for Hiruzen, the Sarutobi plopping down on the boy's vacant side, dragging a surprised Danzo beside him. Hiruzen immediately dives into a one-sided conversation with the Uchiha, gesturing wildly.
The captive never changes expression, but Tobirama thinks his posture loosens the slightest bit. Maybe the Uchiha is faking it, simply looking to obtain an ally who will help him escape.
Or perhaps, the boy is tired of pretending. He's been strong all week, playing the role of an impeccable shinobi.
Yet up there on the stage, among other boys, Tobirama suddenly can't tell the difference between him and them.
The Uchiha is given a day of rest.
He doesn't make it through half of it before Hashirama shows up on Tobirama's doorstep, crying a river.
"He won't eat!" Hashirama sobs, breath hitching while tears roll down his cheeks.
Tobirama blinks slowly while his brother collapses against him, his tears soaking Tobirama's dark, long sleeve.
"I've tried everything! Different flavors, different spices, asking him what he wants, but he just—just!"
He bursts into sobs, and Tobirama sighs. "I will take care of it."
Hashirama's breath hitches, head snapping up. Yet already he's activated his hiraishin, focusing on the seal staining his brother's house walls. He follows the pull, embraces the tug on his core while reality warps into colorful streams.
He arrives before the white shoji with a tree pairing, and slides it open, his bare feet padding the tatami floor.
The Uchiha sits at the short table, the boy's manacled hands folded neatly upon his lap, and blank gaze on the ground.
Tobirama stops before him and crosses his arms.
"Nourish yourself, and I will teach you the Shadow Clone jutsu."
Hashirama gasps behind him, having just arrived. However, Tobirama keeps his focus on the boy.
The Uchiha twitches. Then he reaches for his chopsticks, chains clinking against his plate as he dips them in his rice curry.
Tobirama nods and turns around, brushing past a gaping Hashirama. He leaves through the front door, exiting onto the dirt road. Light blue emerges in the sky under the heavy pink and violet shades of dawn, a gloom covering the houses of the residential district.
"Tobi!"
He stops, and sandals slap the dirt behind him until they skid to a stop on his side.
"How?" Hashirama peers earnestly at him, dark irises still shiny with unshed tears. "How did you know that would work?"
Tobirama stares at his brother. "Has he looked at you?"
Hashirama blinks twice, taken aback. Yet he stutters, "N-no." His face creases. "But I've tried—"
"Has he spoken, even once?"
Hashirama's lips purse. Some thought twirls behind his eyes, catching onto the pattern that Tobirama is revealing.
Softly, he says, "No." His brow furrows. "He's…I don't think he's happy."
"No." Tobirama sighs. "I would think not."
He scowls. "This is his silent protest." He glares. "Do not doubt he will not escape at the first solid chance he gets."
Hashirama frowns, but isn't surprised. He recognizes the truth.
So Tobirama turns. "Sunrise, tomorrow, bring him to Training Field Two."
He walks on.
His brother's gaze follows him until he turns the corner and vanishes into the early morning gloom.
The Uchiha stands before him on the short grassy field. For once, his dark eyes are raised, staring just past Tobirama.
A stream gurgles behind the Senju, soaked stones sparkling under the clear water. It's a warning. After all, Tobirama's reputation as a Suiton-master would be a hard thing to miss.
So, he stretches out his hand and forms the clone seal. "Copy my movements."
The Uchiha obediently raises his chained hands and mirrors him.
"Allow chakra to flow throughout your entire being, like a fire burning out from your core to your furthest extremities."
The Uchiha does, remarkably so, as Tobirama senses not a drop of superfluous chakra being used.
"Now, examine that map of yourself," Tobirama says sternly, because this is the part so many young genin get wrong. "Split your chakra in half and release it according to specifications of that inner map, allowing your chakra to naturally add the finer details—"
Pop! Smoke puffs around a second and third chained Uchiha. The clones blink in surprise and glance at the original. Then they turn to Tobirama.
The Senju raises a brow. "Showing off?"
The clones puff out of existence, yet the Uchiha still stands there, perfectly posed.
And Tobirama doesn't know why, but he says, "Excellent chakra control…but that is to be expected from a sensor of your high caliber."
The Uchiha looks up. Raven eyes crinkle with amusement, his lips pulled into the barest smirk.
Tobirama can't help but feel like he's won the highest honor.
Days pass without trouble.
Then Tobirama is called to the battlefield once more. All is normal, all is routine as the two battalions—Senju and Uchiha—meet in the middle of the stony ground.
At least until Izuna lunges across the space between them and growls in Hashirama's face. "Where is!?"
Hashirama blinks, startled, and Madara swiftly hauls his brother back.
"Quiet, Izuna," Madara says cooly, but there's something hard about his dark eyes, his visage colder as he regards Hashirama.
Izuna simmers under the hand on him, killing intent sparking and lashing wildly. Some of his own clan even stiffen as they're caught in the crossfire of his ire.
"You're dead—" Izuna's Sharingan burns to life. "Both of you!"
Then he throws himself, not at Tobirama, but at his brother. Hashirama dodges, still wide-eyed, and there's a sluggish response from all parties as the usual formalities of war are forgone. Yet an Uchiha tosses shuriken at a Senju, blowing fire across them, and everyone swiftly falls into the usual pattern of war.
An Uchiha lashes a fire whip at Tobirama. His ninjatō braces against it while he swiftly forms seals in one hand.
"Suiton: Water Wave!"
Tobirama spits a water wave high over their enemies. Uchiha screams as the water comes slamming down, flooding over them. Kunai strike the Uchiha's hearts as they float in the tidal wave, unable to escape, and they go limp under the water.
"Give him back!"
Tobirama spins around as Izuna slashes a kunai at his head. It strikes his happuri, and his skull throbs from the force as Tobirama goes to bring his own kunai up.
Sharingan eyes burn into Tobirama. He hisses a curse, swiftly fighting the genjutsu shivering through his chakra. The world spins to black anyway.
"Where is he!?"
"What have you done to him!?"
"I'll kill you, I'll kill you, I'll kill you, I'll kill you—die!"
Rapid-fire questions deafen Tobirama. Emotion rolls over him with tsunami strength—desperation-fierce protectiveness-fear-love—and Tobirama staggers under the onslaught, sweat pooling down his face as he falls onto his hands and knees.
Fingers rake through his mind, seeking answers about…about…
"T-the Uchiha boy?" Tobirama gasps.
Then a hand grasps his hair. Tobirama bites down a cry as he's yanked into Izuna's face.
Spinning Sharingan blazing, Izuna seethes. "What have you done to him!?"
His voice howls like the wind, skin like fire on Tobirama's head. Yet the Senju chews out, "He's unharmed—"
"Liar!"
"Liar!"
"LIAR!"
The echo screams, rupturing Tobirama's illusory ears. Yet the actual Izuna hisses, "Anija sensed him crying for days!"
His hand grips Tobirama's hair tighter, nearly yanking it from his scalp. Tobirama grunts as Izuna screeches.
"What have you done to my nephew!?"
Tobirama's eyes widen. "N-nephew?"
The genjutsu shatters. Tobirama barely recognizes he's in the dirt before a very real kunai stabs at his side.
"TOBI!"
Tobirama activates hiraishin without thinking. A vicious tug on his core, the world blurs, and he's behind Izuna, the marked kunai he'd thrown across the battlefield earlier at his feet.
Yet he can't catch his breath before Izuna swivels back, war fan in hand and raining it down at his head with an enraged yell. Tobirama leaps back.
Something sings through the air. Tobirama has just enough time to realize Izuna is smirking before a senbon slices past his neck. Tobirama's hand slaps at his cut throat, but it's already burning—poison.
"I told you." Izuna glowers. "You're dead."
Tobirama believes him. So he takes the smartest course and hirashins off the battlefield.