Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hello and welcome! I'm so grateful you’re taking the time to stop by and read this. I promise you’re in for a treat! Grab some tissues and your favorite drink—something strong would be perfect—because you might just need it!

This collection features short stories set in the Founders Era of Naruto. While some storylines might veer off from the original plot, that’s the beauty of fan fiction, right? 

You can expect a focus on the dramatic relationship between Madara and Tobirama, along with a few other pairings (I just can’t help myself with those two!). Also lots of brotherly love between Tobirama and Hashirama.

music also gives me a lot of creative insight, so most stories will be paired with a song which you can see in the notes at the beginning 

On a more serious level: there are some sensitive topics included, and I’ll provide trigger warnings at the start of each story. Don’t hesitate to skip any that you’re not comfortable with!

I’d also love to hear your thoughts and ideas for future chapters! Your feedback means a lot to me, so feel free to share. Thank you so much for joining me on this journey, and I hope you enjoy every moment!

Chapter Text

The sun was setting when Tobirama Senju ran far away from the eyes of the Senju clan base. His feet barely touched the ground as he sped through the dense forest, pushing branches aside and jumping over fallen logs. He needed to escape—escape the looks of pity, the whispers of disappointment, and most of all, the burning gaze of his father. He needed solitude, a place where he could become one with the water—his element, his solace.

A year had passed since Itama's death, but the wound was still fresh. It was a wound deep in his heart, festering, refusing to heal. Tobirama came to a halt at the river's edge, panting heavily. The rushing water mirrored the turmoil within him. His reflection stared back—a boy of fourteen, covered in blood and bruises, the cuts on his cheeks and chin stark against his pale skin. His father's doing. His punishment for being weak.

Tobirama stepped into the cold water, the chill biting into his skin, and knelt down. The river washed over his face, taking away the blood but not the pain. His hands shook as he touched the marks on his cheeks as they continued to bleed—permanent reminders of his father's wrath. 

"You're weak," his father had spat, his voice dripping with venom. "You let your brother die because you're nothing but a useless child!"

The memory crashed over him like a wave, and Tobirama's breath hitched. 

---

"Father, please! It wasn't his fault!" Hashirama's voice had pleaded, filled with desperation.

"Silence, Hashirama!" Butsuma roared, his hand descending once more, landing another blow on Tobirama's face. Tobirama's vision blurred with tears, but he refused to cry out. He wouldn't give his father the satisfaction. "Weakness has no place in this clan! You let Itama die!"

"I... I tried to protect him..." Tobirama managed to choke out, his body trembling with pain.

"Try harder!" Butsuma's hand gripped his face, fingers digging into his skin. "You think tears will bring him back? Do you think whining will change anything? A leader protects his clan! A leader doesn't cry over what can't be undone!"

"But I'm not the leader!" Tobirama shouted, finally breaking. "I'm not you!"

The room fell silent. Tobirama's cheeks burned from his father's nails, and his whole body ached. Hashirama had tried to intervene, but even he had his limits under Butsuma's iron rule. When his father released him, Tobirama collapsed to the floor, his heart heavier than the bruises on his body.

"Get out of my sight," Butsuma muttered. "And don't return until you've decided to stop being weak."

---

Tobirama’s throat burned with suppressed sobs as he stood waist-deep in the river, letting its current ground him. The water flowed around him, as if trying to wash away not only the blood and bruises but also the anguish and anger that weighed him down. He leaned back and allowed himself to float, staring up at the darkening sky, his white hair fanning out in the water like a lily pad. The world grew silent, save for the gurgling of the river, and in that silence, Tobirama whispered, "Why can’t we all just get along?"

The words sounded childish, even to his own ears, but they were a wish—a wish for a world without war, without death, without clan hatred. A world where his brothers would still be alive.

Tears spilled from his eyes, mixing with the water around him. His chest tightened with grief, and in a moment of desperation, he formed the seals with his hands. His chakra flowed out of him, melding with the river, and he called upon the water to do his bidding. From the depths of the river, shapes began to form—two familiar figures emerged, their forms delicate and wavering like mirages. But Tobirama knew those shapes. He would recognize them anywhere.

"Itama... Kawarama..." he breathed, his voice cracking. The water clones of his brothers stared back at him, their eyes reflecting his pain. They looked so real, so alive, that for a moment, Tobirama almost believed they were truly there.

"I'm sorry," Tobirama choked, his voice raw with grief. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough."

The water clones did not speak; they only stared, their eyes filled with understanding—or maybe it was just his own imagination, desperately searching for solace.

"I swear," Tobirama continued, his voice stronger, "I will make things right. I will make a world where brothers don't have to die, where clans don’t have to fight."

The clones began to ripple, their forms distorting in the water. Tobirama reached out a hand, but they slipped through his fingers like the river itself, disappearing back into the current. His breath hitched again, and a sob finally broke free from his throat.

"Please... forgive me."

The river flowed on, indifferent to his pleas, carrying away his tears as the sun dipped below the horizon. Tobirama floated there, anchored to the only element that could embrace him without judgment. For a long time, he remained in the water, his body cold but his spirit slowly finding a flicker of determination.

The world may be cruel now, but one day, he would change it. For his brothers. For his clan. For all the children who should never have to feel this pain.

Chapter Text

The midday sun hung high over the village of Konoha, bathing the streets in a warm, golden light. Madara Uchiha strolled along the cobblestone paths with his hands clasped behind his back, his posture tense despite the supposed relaxation. Hashirama had all but shoved him out of the Hokage’s office after finding him buried in paperwork for hours without pause. 

"Take a break, Madara! Enjoy the village a little," Hashirama had insisted, with that stubborn grin that never accepted no for an answer.

So, after reluctantly leaving his duties behind, Madara found himself wandering aimlessly through the village. His walk eventually led him to his favorite ramen shop, where he enjoyed a quiet lunch. It was right as he finished his meal, still savoring the lingering taste of broth on his lips, that he heard a commotion coming from the training grounds of the Academy.

Intrigued, Madara made his way toward the sound, keeping his distance as he approached. From the shadows of a nearby tree, he watched a familiar scene unfold. Tobirama Senju stood in the middle of the training field, surrounded by his students. They were in the middle of a sparring session, the eager young shinobi panting with exertion as they pushed themselves to match their sensei’s effortless movements.

“How do you make it look so easy, Tobirama-sensei?” Hiruzen Sarutobi huffed, wiping the dirt off his face with the back of his hand.

Tobirama chuckled, his usually stern face softening in rare amusement. "It’s not about making it look easy, Hiruzen. It’s about understanding the basics. You need to feel the rhythm of the movement, not just imitate it. With time and practice, it will come naturally."

Kagami Uchiha, always eager to impress, stepped forward with a wide grin. "I think I’ve almost got it, Tobirama-sensei! Just watch!" He launched into a flurry of hand signs, his Sharingan gleaming as he attempted to replicate Tobirama’s technique.

Danzo Shimura, always competitive, snorted. "You're not the only one, Kagami. I’ve been watching closely. I’ll get it before you do."

"Don't be so sure of yourself, Danzo," Kagami retorted, his eyes narrowing. "Talent alone won't make you stronger. Hard work does."

Tobirama raised a hand to calm the brewing rivalry. "Enough, you two. Remember, you're comrades. Compete to make each other stronger, not to tear each other down."

Madara couldn’t help but be drawn in by the scene. There was something captivating about the way Tobirama guided his students, his voice calm yet firm, his eyes focused yet gentle. His white hair, glistened in the sunlight, and there was a certain grace to his movements that spoke of a deep understanding of not just jutsu, but of the people around him. For a moment, Madara allowed himself to smile, feeling an unfamiliar flutter in his chest.

Unnoticed, he began to turn away, ready to head back to the Hokage Tower. Yet, as he moved, he felt a strong gaze on his back. Madara paused, his senses sharp as he heard the soft whisper of Kagami Uchiha’s voice.

"Look, isn’t that Madara-sama?" Kagami asked in awe. "He must be taking a day off."

Tobirama’s eyes flickered to where Madara stood, hidden but not invisible. "Kagami, focus on your training," he reprimanded gently. "Madara-sama has his own matters to attend to."

Madara smirked, amused by Tobirama’s stern yet caring tone. He could feel the weight of Tobirama’s gaze on him, a mix of curiosity and something else he couldn’t quite place. He decided to test the waters.

“Shouldn’t a sensei’s attention be on his students?” Madara called out, his deep voice carrying across the training grounds.

The students turned, eyes widening as they saw the infamous Uchiha. Tobirama’s expression didn’t change, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor.

"And shouldn’t the Hokage’s attention be on his duties?" Tobirama replied smoothly, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "It’s rare to see you out of the office, Madara. I hope you’re not lost."

Madara chuckled, a sound that was surprisingly light. "I’ve been... encouraged to take a break," he admitted, his dark eyes locking with Tobirama’s. "Though it seems I’m not the only one working hard today."

Kagami’s eyes darted between the two of them, sensing the undercurrent in their exchange. "Madara-sama, would you like to join us? We’d love to see you and Tobirama-sensei spar!"

Danzo, ever serious, added, "It would be a rare opportunity to learn."

Tobirama raised an eyebrow, turning back to his students. "Enough, both of you. Madara-sama has more important things to do than entertain your whims."

But Madara, feeling unusually playful, stepped forward. "Oh, I don’t mind. A little sparring could be... refreshing." His gaze never left Tobirama’s, a challenge in his eyes.

For a moment, Tobirama seemed to consider it. His students were practically vibrating with excitement. Finally, he sighed, giving in. "Very well. But just a friendly match. We don’t want to destroy the training grounds, do we?"

Madara grinned, and for the first time in a while, it felt genuine. "Agreed."

As they took their positions, the students gathered around, eager to witness this unexpected clash. Tobirama’s expression was calm, but Madara could see the spark of challenge in his eyes. 

“Let’s see if you’ve gotten rusty behind that desk,” Tobirama teased, his stance ready and composed.

“Careful, Tobirama. You might just find I’ve been waiting for a moment like this,” Madara replied, his Sharingan spinning to life.

The two leapt into action, and for a few exhilarating minutes, the training grounds were filled with the sounds of clashing chakra and swift, precise movements. It wasn’t a battle fueled by hatred or rivalry, but rather one of respect, of equals testing each other. And in that exchange, Madara felt something shift between them—an understanding, a connection that hadn’t been there before.

As they finally came to a stop, both slightly out of breath but neither truly exhausted, the students erupted into cheers. Tobirama offered a rare smile, nodding at Madara. "Not bad."

Madara chuckled, his eyes softening. "You’re not so bad yourself, Senju."

As the students crowded around Tobirama, eager for his attention and advice, Madara watched with a new perspective. There was a warmth to Tobirama he hadn’t allowed himself to see before. 

He turned to leave once more, but this time, he wasn’t alone for long.

“Madara,” Tobirama called after him, his voice quieter, meant for him alone. “Perhaps… you should take a break more often.”

Madara paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Perhaps I will,” he replied, his voice surprisingly gentle. And for a moment, their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them—a promise, a possibility. 

As he continued on his way back to the Hokage Tower, Madara’s steps felt a little lighter, his heart fluttering just a bit more than usual. Perhaps, he mused, there was more to Tobirama Senju than he had first thought.

Chapter Text

Hashirama Senju sat hunched over his desk in the Hokage office, fingers threaded through his dark hair, his face lined with worry. Papers and reports lay scattered around him, but his attention was far from village affairs. He was thinking about his younger brother, Tobirama. The Hokage sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. 

For weeks now, Tobirama had been practically living in his laboratory, pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion. His once-vibrant skin had grown pale, his cheeks hollowing out, and dark circles formed under his eyes. Hashirama had tried—tried so many times—to get him to go home and rest. But Tobirama was stubborn, as always.

"I'm fine, Anija," Tobirama would say dismissively, eyes never leaving his work. "I'm an adult. I don't need you babysitting me."

Hashirama knew his brother’s intentions were good. Tobirama wanted to protect the village, to develop jutsus that could keep them safe from all threats, but his determination was tearing him apart. It was as if Tobirama was burning his own life force to power the flames of his ambition. Hashirama couldn't stand it. 

He glanced up from his desk when the door to his office creaked open. Madara Uchiha strode in, He carried himself with his usual confidence and power like always, yet there was a slight weariness in his eyes from the recent mission. His hair, like a wild mane, fell around his face as he approached the desk, dropping off his and Izuna’s mission reports in front of Hashirama with a soft thud.

"Hashirama," Madara greeted, his deep voice echoing in the quiet room. "I see you’re drowning in paperwork again. I’d almost think you enjoy this."

Hashirama forced a weak chuckle, but it quickly dissolved into a sigh. "I wish it were just the paperwork," he muttered, his tone heavy with concern.

Madara raised an eyebrow, leaning against the desk. "What's troubling you?"

For a moment, Hashirama hesitated. He trusted Madara, but discussing Tobirama’s condition felt like admitting his own helplessness as an older brother. Yet, Madara was one of the few who understood his position. "It's Tobirama," he finally said. "He's been overworking himself in his lab, trying to come up with new jutsus to protect the village. But it's taking a toll on him... He looks exhausted. He’s pale, barely eating—he’s wearing himself thin, literally. I’ve tried to make him rest, but he always refuses."

Madara listened intently, his dark eyes narrowing with concern. "Knowing Tobirama, he's probably too proud to admit he needs a break. And too stubborn to take one even if he did."

Hashirama nodded solemnly. "Exactly. He thinks he's doing it for the village, and I know he is, but it's tearing him down physically. I’m worried, Madara... I don’t know how much more of this he can take."

Madara considered this for a moment, his eyes lighting with thought. "Leave Tobirama to me," he finally said, a determined edge in his voice. "I'll deal with him."

Hashirama blinked, momentarily taken aback. "You think you can get through to him? I've tried—"

Madara smirked, a glint of challenge in his eyes. "I'm not you, Hashirama. I have my ways. Besides, if there's one thing I’m good at, it's handling stubborn people."

Hashirama managed a small smile. "Alright... I trust you."

Madara gave a curt nod and turned on his heel, heading out of the office. As he made his way through the streets of Konoha, he couldn't help but think about how to approach Tobirama. They weren't exactly on bad terms, but their interactions were usually filled with tension—part competitive, part something else that Madara didn’t want to think too hard about. But Tobirama needed rest, whether he wanted it or not.

Meanwhile, just outside the Uchiha compound, Izuna Uchiha stretched his arms above his head, feeling the satisfying pull of his muscles after their long mission. "I still think I did most of the work back there," he teased, casting a sideways glance at his older brother.

Madara chuckled. "Is that so? I seem to recall you struggling quite a bit against that last guy."

Izuna scoffed dramatically. "Please, I was just giving you a chance to shine. You know, as the older brother, you need your moments."

Madara’s lips quirked up into a half-smile. "Oh, how generous of you."

Izuna rolled his eyes, but there was a playful light in them. "Anyway, I'm heading home. Try not to get into too much trouble, big brother."

"I could say the same to you," Madara retorted, watching as Izuna waved him off and disappeared down the path. He couldn’t help but smile. There was a certain ease in their banter that he cherished—one of the few things that kept him grounded amidst all the politics and battles.

Turning his attention back to the task at hand, Madara continued on his way towards research facilities were, where he knew Tobirama's laboratory was located. The closer he got, the more he could feel a faint, unsettling hum of chakra—Tobirama's chakra, cold and intense, like the man himself. 

When Madara reached the lab, he found Tobirama hunched over a table, his face illuminated by the soft glow of a lantern. The room was filled with scrolls, ink bottles, and a faint haze from some kind of experiment. Tobirama's eyes were fixed on a complex diagram, his hand moving swiftly to make adjustments. He didn’t even look up when Madara entered.

"I see you're busy as usual," Madara remarked, his voice cutting through the thick silence.

Tobirama’s eyes flicked up briefly, then back down to his work. "What do you want, Madara?"

Madara didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a few steps closer, pretending to examine the diagrams. "Interesting... What are you working on this time?"

Tobirama glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "A new sealing technique. One that could potentially immobilize a target even if they break the initial bindings."

Madara hummed in approval. "Sounds impressive. But you know, all this work and no rest... it doesn’t do much good if you collapse before completing it."

Tobirama’s hand stilled, and his gaze turned steely. "I’m fine."

Madara snorted. "You look far from fine. The village doesn’t need you passing out in the middle of a lab experiment. Or worse."

Tobirama’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Did brother tell you to come here? I can take care of myself."

"Clearly, you can’t," Madara countered, his voice rising slightly. "Look at yourself, Tobirama. You’re pale, you’ve lost weight—you’re practically keeping yourself upright with chakra alone. How long do you think you can keep this up?"

Tobirama's eyes flashed with irritation. "Why do you care? Since when have you been so concerned about my well-being?"

"Since it started affecting the village," Madara shot back. "And if you’re going to work yourself to death, someone has to step in and stop you. If your brother can’t do it, then I will."

The room fell into a heavy silence, both men glaring at each other. Finally, Tobirama broke the stare, sighing in exasperation. "Fine. I’ll take a break. But only because you're being such a nuisance."

Madara smirked triumphantly. "Good. And I’m walking you home to make sure you actually stay there."

Tobirama's eyes narrowed. "You think I need a babysitter now?"

"I’d say so Senju," Madara replied smoothly. "If I catch you sneaking back out here, I’ll drag you back to your house like a child. Don’t test me."

Tobirama scoffed, a hint of sarcasm slipping into his tone. "Oh, how terrifying. I’ll be sure to stay in bed with my warm milk, then."

Madara chuckled, finding some amusement in Tobirama’s snark. "That’s the spirit."

They walked out of the lab together, the cool night air hitting their faces as they made their way down the quiet streets. For a moment, there was an odd silence between them, the kind that came when two people were unaccustomed to walking side by side without conflict. As they reached the door of Tobirama’s home, their steps slowed, and they turned to face each other. For a split second, their eyes met, lingering a little too long.

Madara’s heart thudded in his chest. He could feel the warmth of Tobirama’s breath, see the slight rise and fall of his chest. He was suddenly aware of just how close they were, the charged air between them humming with something unspoken, something that neither of them would ever admit.

Tobirama’s gaze softened for just a moment, looking down at madara’s lips momentarily, wishing he could touch them, kiss them even- but then he cleared his throat, his expression hardening again. "Goodnight, Madara," he said, his voice tense. “Thank you for walking me home”

Madara’s lips curved into a faint smile. "Goodnight, Tobirama. Remember, stay put. I’ll pin point your chakra signature" He said, taking a step back ready to leave. 

“Yes, whatever you say” Tobirama huffed a small laugh. He watched as Madara walked off into the night before opening his door. He yarned and headed towards his bedroom, his exhausted being clear to him now.

Once he was in his futon drifting off to sleep, he couldn’t stop his thoughts drifting to Madara as he fell asleep. 

Chapter Text

It was a warm evening in Konoha, the village bustling with excitement as the annual festival preparations were in full swing. Hashirama Senju, the First Hokage, had taken it upon himself to ensure every detail was perfect. His broad smile radiated infectious energy as he checked the stalls and oversaw decorations, his large hands helping wherever they were needed.

Madara Uchiha, ever the vigilant leader of his clan, had been dragged into assisting as well. Despite his initial grumbling, he found himself mildly entertained by Hashirama’s unrelenting enthusiasm. But amidst all the preparations, neither of them had seen Tobirama all day. Hashirama mentioned that his younger brother was working on a special "sky display," a new addition to the festival that he was particularly excited about.

The sky had begun to darken, and as night fell, the village was illuminated by the soft glow of hundreds of lanterns. Children ran around with sparklers in their hands, their laughter echoing through the streets. Madara’s sharp eyes caught sight of his nephew, Kagami Uchiha, who was sporting a confused expression as Danzo Shimura, of all people, tried awkwardly to flirt with him. Madara smirked at the scene, finding some amusement in his nephew’s embarrassment. ‘Nice try Shimura’

As he continued through the crowd, he eventually spotted his younger brother, Izuna Uchiha. Madara made his way over to him, noting the familiar glint of mischief in Izuna’s eyes. "Madara," Izuna greeted, a smirk already curling his lips, "If I see one more Senju child running around, I might just set myself on fire."

"Now, now, Izuna," Madara replied, amused. "We wouldn’t want to deprive the village of your charm and wit."

"Charm and wit, huh?" Izuna's eyebrow quirked as he crossed his arms. "I don't see you charming anyone tonight, big brother. Or did you just want to glare at everyone and be a festival decoration yourself?"

Madara rolled his eyes. "I'd rather glare at you than anyone else, Izuna."

Izuna snickered, but then his attention shifted to something over Madara’s shoulder. “Speaking of glaring, look who’s coming over. And here I thought Tobirama was avoiding the festivities.”

Madara turned his head and felt his breath hitch for just a moment. Tobirama Senju was approaching with Hashirama by his side, dressed in a flowing cream and green kimono that seemed to shimmer under the lanterns warmly. His silver hair, flowing gently in the slight summer wind, he was- beautiful. Madara’s heart skipped a beat; Tobirama’s beauty, bathed in the warm glow of the lanterns, was unexpectedly breathtaking.

Hashirama, as always, was practically bursting with excitement. "Madara! Izuna! Isn’t the festival wonderful?" he exclaimed. “I think this is the best one yet!”

“Your opinion is hardly objective,” Tobirama said, but his tone was soft, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Before Madara could think of a witty reply, Mito Uzumaki called for Hashirama from across the square. “Hashirama! I need your help with something over here!”

“Coming, Mito!” Hashirama waved energetically. “You two enjoy the festival!” He winked at Madara and Tobirama before dashing off, leaving them standing there in the dimming twilight.

Izuna's eyes landed on Touka Senju across the square, and he gave his brother a sly look. "Looks like it’s my turn to deal with a Senju. Don’t wait up, Madara." With that, he sauntered away, leaving Madara and Tobirama alone.

An awkward silence settled between them, broken only by the soft murmur of the crowd around them. Madara cleared his throat, searching for something to say. “So, a sky display? I’m curious to see what you’ve planned.”

Tobirama gave a curt nod, his eyes scanning the sky above them. “I wanted to try something new this year. It should start any moment now.”

Madara raised an eyebrow. “You? Wanting to try something new? That’s a surprise.”

Tobirama smirked, crossing his arms. “Even I can appreciate a bit of spectacle now and then.”

A silence fell between them again, but this time it was more comfortable. Madara watched the way Tobirama’s eyes seemed to soften when he looked at the stars, and for a moment, he was captivated. "Would you… walk with me?" Tobirama asked suddenly, his voice quiet yet firm. "There’s a better view near the Hokage mountain."

Madara blinked, surprised, but nodded. "Lead the way."

The two of them walked side by side through the crowded streets, the sounds of the festival slowly fading into the background as they made their way to the quieter edges of the village. The air was cool, and the moon was beginning to rise, casting a silver glow over the path ahead. Lanterns swayed in the evening breeze, their warm lights flickering against the darkness like little spirits dancing in the night.

When they reached the base of Hokage Mountain, Tobirama found a spot where they could sit and see the village below, bathed in warm, colorful lights. It was a place he came often, one of his few sanctuaries away from the burdens of leadership. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, the tension between them easing as they took in the sight.

“It’s… peaceful up here,” Madara said finally, his voice softer than usual, almost contemplative. His usual intensity was softened by the moonlight, his sharp features bathed in silver.

Tobirama glanced at him, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I’ve always liked this spot. It’s one of the few places where I can think without interruption,” he replied, his voice low and steady. The atmosphere was different tonight—something unspoken hung between them, charged like the air before a storm.

Madara nodded, his eyes still on the village below. “I can see why. It’s… calming,” he murmured. The way he said it made Tobirama wonder if Madara found it calming or if he was speaking more of what was between them. The man always had a way of masking his true intentions with half-truths.

Silence stretched out again, the quiet amplifying the unspoken tension. Tobirama's eyes remained on the village, but he could feel Madara's presence beside him, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, smell the faint hint of sandalwood. His mind kept replaying the rare moments when they had fought side by side rather than against each other—moments filled with a strange, reluctant camaraderie that Tobirama could never quite understand.

Suddenly, a loud crack filled the air, startling Madara, who instinctively raised his arms in a defensive pose, his eyes narrowing as if expecting an attack. Tobirama chuckled softly at the sight, and Madara shot him a glare before the sky erupted in a burst of colors—reds, blues, and greens lighting up the darkness in a brilliant display. The fireworks had begun.

Madara’s annoyance melted away as he watched the sky explode in a vibrant cascade. Tobirama watched him out of the corner of his eye, the flickering lights playing over Madara’s face, softening his usual stern expression. There was a softness there that was rarely seen, a vulnerability that caught Tobirama off guard.

"I didn’t expect you to be startled so easily, Uchiha," Tobirama teased, his tone light.

Madara’s lips twitched with a small, reluctant smile. "I wasn’t expecting such… artistry from you, Senju," he countered, his voice low and almost amused. "You never struck me as the type to create something so... beautiful."

Tobirama’s smile grew, his eyes glinting in the colors of the fireworks. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Madara turned to him then, his dark eyes locking onto Tobirama’s. “Maybe I’d like to change that.”

For a moment, the world fell away. The bursts of color illuminated Madara’s face in soft, shifting hues, and Tobirama found himself caught in the intensity of that gaze. There was a pull, something magnetic and undeniable, and he felt his own defenses crumbling in the face of it.

Madara's hand moved closer, his fingers brushing against Tobirama’s. The touch sent a jolt through Tobirama’s body, his breath hitching. Their eyes met—Madara’s were searching, challenging, as if daring Tobirama to make the next move.

“Madara…” Tobirama breathed, his voice barely audible over the sound of the fireworks. The tension between them was thick, electric. Tobirama felt a surge of something—something that had been buried under years of conflict and rivalry—rise to the surface.

Without another word, Tobirama leaned in, his hand reaching up to cup Madara’s cheek, his lips brushing against Madara’s in a tentative, almost hesitant kiss. But Madara responded immediately, fiercely, as if he had been waiting for this moment just as long. The kiss deepened, their lips moving together in a heated dance, and the world around them seemed to ignite. The fireworks overhead grew brighter, more intense, casting vivid shadows across their faces as they kissed, their breaths mingling in the cool night air.

Madara’s hand slid up to tangle in Tobirama’s hair, pulling him closer, and Tobirama responded with a low, moan that sent a shiver down Madara’s spine- ‘I need more’ he thought. There was a desperate intensity to it, a need that neither of them had realized they had until now. When they finally pulled away, they were both breathless, their foreheads pressed together, their breaths heavy and ragged.

“I didn’t expect that,” Tobirama murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His heart was pounding in his chest, his eyelashes fluttered and his senses still reeling from the taste of Madara’s lips.

“Neither did I,” Madara replied, his voice just as rough. But there was a smile on his face, a genuine one that Tobirama had never seen before. It was softer, more open. “But… I’m glad it happened.”

Tobirama let out a breathless chuckle, his fingers still entwined with Madara’s. “You’re impossible, Uchiha.”

Madara chuckled too, the sound low and warm, and for the first time, Tobirama thought it was almost… endearing. “And you, Senju, are full of surprises. Fireworks? Really?”

Tobirama smirked. “You should know by now, I’m always thinking ahead. I had a feeling tonight might need a little… extra spark.”

Madara laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained, and Tobirama found himself laughing too, a weight lifting from his shoulders that he hadn’t realized was there.

As the last of the fireworks lit up the sky, they sat together, their hands still entwined, watching as the colors faded into the night. A comfortable silence settled between them, one filled with possibilities and unspoken promises.

For the first time in a long time, Madara felt a sense of peace—a spark of something new that had ignited amidst the fireworks. “You know,” he said softly, “I never thought I’d find myself here with you like this… but maybe it’s not so bad.”

Tobirama glanced at him, his expression softening. “Maybe it’s not,” he agreed quietly. And for the first time, he let himself believe that there might be a future where they weren’t always on opposite sides—a future where this new spark could grow into something even more beautiful.

Chapter Text

The air was thick with the stench of blood and smoke, the ground littered with the bodies of fallen enemy shinobi. The mission had gone disastrously wrong. What was meant to be a quick strike against a rogue ninja outpost had turned into a bloodbath, and now Kagami Uchiha lay on the forest floor, panting heavily, his body broken and battered. His Sharingans were dimming with every passing moment as his chakra flickered in and out almost completely gone. The chirping of birds was the only reminder that life still existed in this place of death.

Kagami's vision blurred as he glanced around, searching for his friend and comrade, Danzo Shimura. His body ached with pain, every breath felt like fire in his lungs. He could barely lift his head to see Danzo standing a few feet away, staring down at him with an expression Kagami couldn't quite read. Relief surged through him at the sight of his friend. He tried to speak, his voice barely a whisper.
"Thank god your ok, that… was a close one, hey Danzo" he attempted to chuckle through the pain, he then coughed and wheezed “could you- help me up please? I think i punctured a lung…”

But Danzo didn't move. He remained still, his eyes cold and calculating, his mouth set in a grim line. Kagami's heartbeat quickened, an unfamiliar sense of dread creeping up his spine.
"Danzo..?" Kagami tried again, with an uneasy tone to his voice.
Danzo's lips curled into a small, almost imperceptible smile.
"You were always the most talented among us, Kagami.
Hiruzen trusted you more than anyone. Even I respected your abilities, your strength, and your resolve to protect the village... but you lack one thing: the power to make the hard choices."

Kagami's breath hitched as he tried to comprehend Danzo's words. "What... the hell are you talking about?" He gasped as more pain shot through him. “Please just help your friend up-“
Danzo's face twisted into a sneer. "Friend? In this world, there are no true friends, only those who are willing to do what must be done to ensure the safety and prosperity of the village. Hiruzen... is weak. He will lead the village to ruin with his ideals. The Leaf needs someone with a backbone, someone willing to make the sacrifices necessary."

Kagami's eyes widened in shock and horror, he struggled to push himself up, his arms trembling with effort as he supported himself.
"Danzo... stop talking like that... let’s just get back to the village... Don't let your ambition destroy everything we've worked for- everything Tobirama sensei worked for"
But Danzo's eyes flickered with a dark determination. "I'm sorry, Kagami. You and I have always had different visions for the future of the village. And now, it's time for me to ensure the village's safety in my own way."

Before Kagami could react, Danzo lunged forward. A strong hand grabbed at Kagami’s throat, and then a sharp, searing pain shot through his left eye. The world around him became a blur of colors as blood dripped down his cheek and soaking into his already bloodied shirt. His hands instinctively clutched his eye, feeling the blood gush between his fingers.
"AGH!" Kagami's scream tore through the silent forest as he stumbled backward, his mind racing to comprehend what was happening. "D-Danzo... what have you done?!" He yelled

Danzo stood over him, holding Kagami's still-bleeding
Sharingan in his hand. "I will put your power to better use, Kagami. You would have wasted it with your weak-willed devotion to those around you."
Kagami's breath was ragged as he looked up at Danzo, his remaining eye filled with tears and fury. "You... you're a betrayer! You've betrayed the village, betrayed your friends... betrayed me!"

Danzo's eyes were cold as he slowly pocketed the Sharingan to keep it safe.
"Friends are only as valuable as the power they wield. You, Kagami, are weak because you cling to ideals that have no place in reality. Hiruzen is spineless.
He talks about peace, but he lacks the strength to take the steps necessary to ensure it.
Someone has to have the power to protect the village, even if it means getting their hands dirty."
"Power?" Kagami hissed, clutching his face, trying to stop the bleeding, his body trembling with weakness. "You'll destroy the village if all you seek is power... This isn't what the Will of Fire means, Danzo... You're blinded by your own twisted goals!"

Danzo's face hardened, his eyes narrowing. "You don't understand. And that's why you're dying here, Kagami. You don't have the strength to fight me, might as well make it easier on yourself and hand me your other eye peacefully."
Kagami's fury boiled over, and despite his fading strength, he gathered what little chakra he had left. He lashed out with a swift, desperate kick. Danzo sidestepped, but not quickly enough; the kick grazed his ribs, sending him stumbling back.
Kagami pressed on, driven by rage and sorrow. "You think you can lead the village with these methods? You think l'll let you walk away from this?"

Danzo regained his balance, his expression becoming more intense. "It's too late, Kagami.
You're exhausted, bleeding out.
And you've already lost your advantage." He drew his own kunai, lunging forward with precision.
Kagami tried to dodge, but his body was slow, drained. Danzo's kunai sliced deep into his shoulder, and Kagami
staggered, his legs barely able to hold him up. "Fuck... you...
Danzo!" he gasped, the pain almost blinding. But he pushed through, thrusting a punch infused with what little chakra he had left and hit Danzo on the jaw. Then grabbed a nearby Kunai and stabbed his betrayers side, blood seeped through, his clothes and the blades handle stuck out. Danzo grunted, wiping blood from his mouth and clutched his side with a dark chuckle- pulling out the Kunai with hardly even a wince. 

"You're still fighting? You never did know when to give up," Danzo growled, his voice cold as ice. "But it's over, Kagami."
With a swift, brutal strike, the kunai plunged deep into Kagami's neck then Dranzo dragged the blade down until the blade caught in the bone of Kagami’s collarbone, and a sickening pain shot through his upper body.
Kagami gasped and choked, blood gushing down his chest. He coughed the blood up that was escaping his mouth and dripping down his chin as his strength finally left him. His legs buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, choking on his own blood.
As he lay there, the forest spinning around him, tears streamed down his remaining eye. "Danzo... why? We could have... we could have protected the village... together..." he choked out.

Danzo looked down at Kagami, his face a mask of grim resolve.
"There is no 'together,' Kagami.
There never was. Only those strong enough to do what is necessary. I will carry the weight of my decisions, and the village will prosper because of it."
Kagami's vision was fading, his consciousness slipping away like sand through his fingers.
"You'll never... understand.. what it means to protect the village..." The Uchiha wheezed and coughed.

Danzo hummed mockingly as he crouched down beside Kagami’s, one of his knees digging into the others arm painfully pinning it in place incase he attacked again, which Danzo doubted. Kagami knew what was coming- however he couldn’t fight back, not anymore. Another pained scream ripped out of his mouth. He free hand instinctively clutching and pulling at Danzo’s wrist trying to stop him and the pain. His nails dug deep moon shaped marks onto Danzo’s wrist but that didn’t stop him from his goal. 
“Funny that coming from the one who’s covered in their own blood, the only impact you have on the village is your name being etched into the stone with the rest of the weak who died”

No reply left the uchiha’s lips, just weak broken whimpers and coughs.

Before leaving, Danzo untied Kagami’s headband with no care for his once friend. He then got up and turned away without looking back, his footsteps echoing through the silence of the forest as he walked away, leaving Kagami to die alone, gasping for air.

Kagami's last thought was of his friends, his family, and the village he had sworn to protect with his life. The world around him went dark, his heart heavy with the betrayal of a friend who had chosen power over loyalty.
‘I hope someone stops him, before he goes to far-I’m sorry for being weak in the end Hiruzen…’

_

Back at the village, Danzo staggered through the gates, his breath ragged and his face smeared with dirt and sweat. Blood seeped through his shinobi uniform, staining it a dark crimson. The guards, alert at his arrival, immediately rushed toward him.

“Danzo! What happened? Where is Kagami?” one of them asked, panic rising in his voice as he scanned the horizon for any sign of their comrade.

Danzo's eyes flickered with something dark—fleeting, almost imperceptible—before he masked it with a pained expression. "He... he didn’t make it," Danzo croaked, clutching his side with a grimace. "I need to see the Hokage. Now."

Without hesitation, the guards led him to the Hokage Tower, practically dragging his weakened form up the stairs. Inside, Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, was already on his feet as they burst into his office. His eyes widened with shock and concern at the sight of his old friend, beaten and bloodied.

“Danzo!” Hiruzen exclaimed, rushing forward and guiding him to a chair. “Sit down. Are you alright? What happened out there?”

Danzo sank heavily into the seat, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “Ambush… They must have known we were coming,” he murmured, his hand pressing harder against his side, where blood continued to ooze between his fingers. “They were ready for us, Hiruzen. It was a slaughter.”

Hiruzen’s eyes narrowed with worry, his brow furrowing deeply. "I must have miscalculated the mission... I should have sent more reinforcements," he muttered to himself before looking directly at Danzo. His voice softened, yet trembled with an underlying dread. “Where is Kagami? Did he manage to escape?”

Danzo paused, his gaze dropping to the floor as he let out a long, theatrical sigh, savoring the moment. Slowly, with deliberate care, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blood-stained headband—Kagami’s. He held it up, his expression a twisted mix of sorrow and something colder, harder. “Kagami… didn’t make it,” he said, almost too quietly. “He fought bravely, but in the end…”

Hiruzen’s breath caught in his throat as he took a step back, eyes fixated on the headband. His voice trembled with disbelief. “No... Kagami? No, it can’t be.” His mind raced, memories of their childhood, their missions together, the countless times they had fought side by side. “He was one of the best of us… one of my closest friends...”

Danzo's lips curled ever so slightly, barely noticeable, as if he were taking some secret pleasure in Hiruzen's grief. “Yes, he was. A true asset to the village,” he said softly, his voice laced with an almost mocking sadness. “He died trying to protect me, and the mission. I barely made it out myself…”

Hiruzen clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as tears welled up in his eyes. “I should have been there,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I should have—”

Danzo cut him off, his tone shifting slightly, now more insistent. “You couldn’t have known, Hiruzen. None of us could have. We were betrayed.” His eyes sharpened, a calculating glint hidden beneath a facade of grief. “Perhaps… there is a traitor among us, someone who knew the details of our mission.”

Hiruzen looked up, a mix of confusion and shock in his eyes. “A traitor? Within the village?” His mind raced with possibilities, but grief clouded his thoughts. “Who would—”

“We must be vigilant,” Danzo interrupted, his voice growing darker. “Kagami’s death cannot be in vain. We must root out this betrayal at its source… for the good of the village.”

The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy and foreboding. Hiruzen stared at him, his face etched with sorrow and doubt. There was something unsettling in the way Danzo spoke, the way he looked at Kagami’s headband as if it were a trophy rather than a symbol of their fallen comrade.

“I… I will look into it,” Hiruzen finally said, his voice weak, almost defeated. His gaze fell once more to the headband, and his shoulders slumped with the weight of his loss.

Danzo nodded, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face. "Good. We must do whatever it takes to protect our home," he murmured, though there was a cold, almost cruel undertone to his words. He watched as Hiruzen turned away, lost in his grief, and a shadow of a smile ghosted his lips.

In his heart, Danzo felt no sorrow for Kagami’s death—only a twisted sense of accomplishment. One less rival, one step closer to his vision of a stronger, more controlled village

Chapter Text

Tobirama stood by the riverbank, his feet silent on the grass that stretched to the water's edge. The whites of his eyes were black, and his crimson irises burned like embers against his cracked, pale skin. He felt the weight of his own existence like a phantom, drifting between the realm of the living and the dead. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel, to listen, the laughter of children carrying on the breeze.

“Madara, you’re gonna lose again!” came the familiar voice of Hashirama, bright with youthful mirth.

“Not a chance! Watch this!” Madara’s voice echoed, full of competitive fire. A stone skipped across the water with precision, sending ripples across the river’s surface.

Tobirama’s gaze shifted toward the two boys, no older than twelve, skipping rocks and laughing as if there were no battles, no war, no death. For a moment, he wondered why they hadn’t noticed him. Then he realized with a pang that he was invisible—he cast no shadow, made no sound. “See! I beat you this time Hashirama” Madara smiled widely it almost felt infectious. Off in the distance he felt the chakra signature of another Uchiha, he hadn’t felt that heat for a long time- Izuna Uchiha. Tobirama expanded his senses, he saw a bright glow of chakra a hundred metres down from the river hidden in the trees peering down at the two boys playing in the water. Tobirama sighed, knowing the outcome in the leading weeks to follow. A set up, an ambush he wish never happened…

He took a step back, deeper into the forest, away from the memories that felt too vivid and too raw. He soon found himself at the graves—Itama, Kawarama, and his mother—all exactly as he remembered them. Itama’s grave was still freshly done, the earth turned over barely a month prior. Tobirama exhaled a long breath. Even in this strange, timeless existence, the pain was fresh. The white flowers were fresh on each of their graves- he remembered placing them and saying a small prayer before disappearing into the forest alone.

Tobirama sighed and continued through the dense trees to the Senju camp. His father, Butsuma, stood barking orders, his voice venomous with hate as he yelled.

“When will the next attack team be ready? The Uchiha scum are expected to do a supply run in the next few days, we need to plan and ambush…”

Tobirama’s jaw clenched at the words. His father's voice still sent a shiver down his spine, a deep-seated fear and resentment. The scars on his cheeks and chin seemed to sting as he remembered the rage that caused them—his father’s rage. Tobirama turned away, unable to bear the sight any longer, his father’s voice echoing in the distance as he got further away.

He walked down a familiar path, his feet carrying him almost unconsciously. It was a path he’d walked many times as a child, a hidden route that led deep into the forest. The trees grew thicker, and the air became cooler. After nearly two hours, he reached a cave opening concealed by thick foliage. He felt the chill of chakra emanating from within.

He hesitated for a moment then stepped inside, the darkness closing around him, as he walked deeper and deeper. The cave opened up into a small clearing, illuminated by a rays of sunlight piercing through a a large hole on the top of the cave. Plants and flowers thrived here, untouched by the harsh war and world outside. The twinkling glow of fireflies made the cave look like it had its own personal star system. And at the bottom of the cave a large pool of water glistened in the center filled with lily pads, koi fish and green frogs. The water reflecting the afternoon sunlight and fireflies. By its edge sat a boy—his younger self—no older than ten. His small feet dangled in the water, his hands creating small animals from the rippling surface. The water animals jumped around the boy before splashing back in the water.

For a moment, Tobirama’s chest tightened. To see himself so young and lost—seeking joy in something such as water figures in a world that offered him so little— it was more painful than he could have imagined.

Suddenly the boy's voice echoed through the cavern. “I thought I sensed a weird chakra,” he said, turning his head away from the water slightly just to peer over his shoulder. “How are you here, and why do you look like that?”

“I don’t know how I am here,” Tobirama replied, stepping closer. “And you’ll figure out why I look like this… one day.”

The boy turned to face him properly, eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of his older self, his younger self looked so small- so weak, not fit for war but forced into it regardless. “Hashirama is with the Uchiha again…” he muttered, his voice low and resentful.

“I know,” Tobirama answered, sitting down beside the boy. A heavy silence fell between them, the cave holding its breath. The younger Tobirama fidgeted, his small hands clenching and unclenching as koi fish swam under his feet.

“Do you want to talk about it?” the older Tobirama offered. “I wish… I had someone to talk to back then.”

The boy’s eyes flickered with something—a mixture of hesitation and yearning. “I guess… I’m talking to myself anyways” he murmured before hesitating “Why am I always so lonely?” he whispered. “Hashirama is never here anymore, Itama and Kawarama are dead… and mother… Father is always angry. I have no one. Please… tell me it gets better?”

The young Tobirama's small hand reached out, touching his older self's, squeezing it tightly. The desperation in that gesture broke something in Tobirama's heart.

He hesitated, then spoke as softly as he could. “No, it doesn’t get better,” he said. “But that… that is what makes you stronger.”

The boy’s face twisted, tears welling up in his eyes- shock and Disbelief. “Why? Why does it have to be like this? Why can’t we ever be happy?”

The older Tobirama’s gaze softened, his expression a mixture of sadness and understanding. “Because our era isn’t one where happiness is guaranteed. It’s a time where we have to fight for every moment of peace.” He replied, his thumb drawing circles over the boys hand in a comforting way for both of them.

“Do we ever achieve peace?” the young boy asked, his voice small and filled with a fragile hope.

“We do… for a short time,” Tobirama admitted. “But true peace—lasting peace—isn’t something we ever truly see. Our world is built on cycles of hatred and vengeance. It’s not our generation’s destiny to break it.”

The boy was silent for a long time, his eyes reflecting the rippling water in front of him. “Then what’s the point? If we can’t have peace… what’s the point of all this pain- all this fight and death?”

“The point,” Tobirama said, “is to keep moving forward, to protect what little we can, to build something better, even if we don’t live to see it. It’s about enduring… surviving… and hoping that one day, someone will come who can break this cycle.”

The young by let out a shaky sigh, the words leaving an obvious impact on his mind. He looked up at his older self and studied his face, his eyes darting from left to right looking at every broken crack in his skin, his dead lifeless eyes, his angry red scars…

The young Tobirama reached up, his small hand touching the scar on his older self’s left cheek. “How did you get these?” he asked, his voice a fragile whisper.

Tobirama closed his eyes, the memory flashing in his mind like the blade used to inflict the wounds. “Father…” he sighed. “In one of his rages. He blamed me… for things that were beyond my control.”

The boy’s face crumpled, tears spilling over. “He… he did this to us?”

“Yes,” Tobirama replied, his voice steady, though his heart was breaking. “But we survived. We became stronger, smarter. We learned to protect ourselves and those we care about. Even from him.”

As the words hung in the air, the older Tobirama felt a warmth spreading through his body. He was beginning to glow, his form becoming more transparent. His time here was ending. His younger self looking at his glowing figure in awe and confusion, tobirama reached out to pull the boy into a deep, meaningful hug- one he knew they both needed desperately.

The younger Tobirama stiffened at first but then melted into the embrace, his small body trembling with sobs. “Don’t go,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Please… don’t leave me alone- not yet”

Tobirama’s heart ached, his arms tightening around the boy. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the boy’s forehead. “I wish I could stay longer…” he sighed shakily, a few tears of his own escaped down his cheeks “But remember, you’re never truly alone. You have yourself, and one day… you’ll have those who will stand by your side. Be strong, Tobirama. Be strong for them… and for yourself.” A broken whimper broke through the young boys lips as he dug his face into his older self’s neck and the fur on his armour. 

As his form faded, the young Tobirama’s sobs filled the cave, the sound echoing through the darkness. And then, he was gone, leaving only the memory of warmth and comfort that his younger self would carry forward through all the pain and trials yet to come.

As the last of his older self’s chakra disappeared the young boy was self alone, his arms wrapped around himself as if trying to protect himself from the pain he was feeling- the loneliness- the future burdens.

‘Be strong tobirama’

Chapter Text

Tobirama's laboratory was shrouded in shadows, save for the cold, clinical light above the metal workbench. The sharp hum of chakra-infused steel instruments echoed in the otherwise silent room. Madara Uchiha's body lay still on the table, stripped of the armor and clothing that once made him seem invincible, his pale, lifeless form now exposed beneath the glaring light.

Tobirama stood opposite him, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. He stared at Madara's unmoving face, the sharp features now softened in death. There was a strange stillness in the room, a heavy weight that pressed down on Tobirama's chest.

Madara was dead.

For a moment, Tobirama couldn't move. He had dissected hundreds of bodies in this very room, studied countless corpses with dispassionate eyes. But this was different. This was Madara.

His greatest enemy. His brother's greatest pain. His own... complication.

He sighed deeply and pushed himself away from the counter, put on gloves and grabbed the cold steel instruments from the tray beside him. His hands were steady as he approached the body, though his mind raced. He placed a hand on Madara's chest, feeling the absence of the powerful chakra that had once surged through this man's body like a burning fire. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to focus on the task at hand.

‘Hashirama gave me permission for this research ’ he reminded himself, but that didn't ease the strange tension in his gut.

"This is for the greater good," Tobirama muttered, though the words rang hollow in the darkened room.

He set the scalpel to Madara's chest, making the first incision with precision. The blade slid smoothly through flesh and muscle, exposing the Uchiha's heart beneath the bone. A muscle that had once pulsed with an unshakable will to dominate now lay still, useless.

"It had to end this way,"

Tobirama spoke quietly, as if explaining to the body, to himself, why he was doing this.

"Your death was inevitable.

You... you were a threat to peace. To our peace. Maybe this is for the best."

The silence that followed his words was deafening, like a void swallowing the sound. He focused on his work, dissecting the body with the same care he had always used. He removed each organ, setting them on the trays beside him, collecting samples with methodical precision.

"You were always a danger to us," Tobirama continued, his voice low, the darkness in his words clashing with the sterile nature of the dissection. "Even after all the times you fought for this village, you couldn't let go of your hate. Couldn't let go of the past."

His hand hovered over Madara's heart for a moment longer, his brow furrowing. What if things had been different? It was a thought he had tried to suppress for years, yet here, in the cold and stillness of the morgue, it came bubbling back up to the surface. Tobirama had always hated Madara - or at least, he told himself he did. But there had been a brief moment, one fleeting night, when the hatred had turned into something else.

Something far more confusing.

That night... the sake had flowed too freely, and the air had been thick with unspoken tension. The kiss, their shared touches, their shared moans-

They had barely tolerated each other then, if only for Hashirama's sake, but

something in Madara's eyes had burned through the veil of hatred, just for that moment- that night they shared tangled in each others arms, covered in sweat and gasping for air after their releases.

They hadn't spoken of it after- ever.

They hadn't needed to. Madara had resented him even more afterward, and he made it well known with the way he looked at the younger male, and took his anger out on him during meetings, interactions and back handed comments.

Tobirama exhaled sharply, shaking the memory from his mind. He resumed his work, taking the samples he needed, dissecting with careful focus. He closed Madara's chest with practiced efficiency, stitching the flesh back together as though nothing had happened.

"Maybe... now you'll find peace in the Pure Lands," Tobirama murmured, his voice softening, surprising himself with the hint of sincerity in his tone. "With your brothers. With Izuna."

Izuna. That name twisted inside him like a blade. Madara had never forgiven Tobirama for killing Izuna. Tobirama couldn't blame him. He knew, had Madara killed Hashirama, he would never have forgiven him either. But that was the reality of war. He had tried to explain that to Madara once, years ago. Tried to tell him that they were at war, that sacrifices were made on both sides. But Madara's resentment turned into boiling rage which left Tobirama with broken ribs that he had placed off as a mission injury to not disturb the peace between Hashirama and Madara.

Tobirama glanced at Madara's face once more, frowning. "You hated me for that, didn't you?" he asked, though he expected no answer. "I could have moved past our hatred. Tried to... move forward. But you couldn't, could you?"

He shook his head, stepping back as he prepared to take the last samples from Madara's eyes. The Sharingan was what fascinated him most. That power, that curse that seemed to drive the Uchiha to madness.

He wondered if there was something in the blood,

something in the very nature of the Sharingan that caused the madness that had consumed Madara in the end.

"Why did you turn your back on us, Madara? On anija…" Tobirama asked, as if the dead man would answer him. "This village was your dream, just as it was Hashirama's. You fought for it, bled for it. And then, when it began to thrive, you resented it."

He sighed and finished taking the samples, setting the tools aside before he gingerly placed Madara's eyes back in their sockets. The Sharingan, now dull and lifeless, stared up at the ceiling as if in defiance. Tobirama took off his bloodied gloves before closing those eyes that haunted him all his life for the last time.

"You should have stayed. We could have built something... something better… perhaps you could have learned to move past your hatred for me" Tobirama said, though he wasn't sure if he believed it himself.

The lab fell silent once more, the oppressive weight of the room growing heavier by the moment.

Tobirama reached out, almost on instinct, and touched Madara's cheek. His fingers barely brushed the cold skin… ‘ if only-‘ he quickly recoiled, snapping his hand back as though burned.

"Foolish," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as if to dispel the lingering ghost of that fleeting touch. He draped a thin blanket over Madara's body, covering him from view.

He lingered a moment longer, staring down at the shrouded corpse. "Maybe... maybe now you'll find the peace you were searching for," Tobirama whispered, almost as if offering a prayer.

But even as he spoke the words, a strange sensation prickled at the edge of his senses. A faint pulse of chakra. His hand twitched, instinctively reaching for his kunai, but then he hesitated. He glanced at the body again, his eyes narrowing.

It's nothing , he told himself. ‘Just my imagination’

But the sense of unease lingered, like a shadow in the corners of the room. Shaking it off, he turned and moved to the cooler room, wheeling Madara's body inside.

"I'll deal with you in the morning," Tobirama said, the finality in his voice unconvincing even to his own ears.

“For now Madara… just rest”

Chapter Text

The meeting room was thick with tension, a suffocating atmosphere that Madara Uchiha did nothing to diminish. He sat with his arms crossed, black hair flowing over his shoulders, his dark eyes glaring at nothing in particular. His mind was elsewhere, fuming over the growing unrest in the Uchiha clan. They were questioning his leadership again, doubting his decisions, even whispering that he had lost his edge ever since the village had been founded.

It gnawed at him, the constant undermining from his own people. His hands clenched tighter against the sleeves of his kimono, knuckles turning white. Beside him, Hashirama Senju, the First Hokage and his old friend, was trying to wrap up another one of his tedious speeches about peace and unity. Madara had barely been listening, caught in the maelstrom of his own thoughts.

“Madara, maybe you should take a moment to cool down?” Hashirama suggested carefully, noticing the storm brewing in his friend’s expression. “You’ve been working tirelessly for your clan and the village, but right now, your anger isn’t helping anyone… Tobirama should be back from training his students by now—perhaps you could deliver these scrolls to him, then after that have the rest of the day off?” He gestured to a small pile of neatly bound scrolls on the table. “A walk might help clear your head.”

Madara’s jaw tightened at the mention of Tobirama’s name. That man was a constant thorn in his side, a bitter reminder of the past they had shared, filled with animosity and bloodshed. Even now, in this so-called time of peace, he hated Tobirama Senju with a fiery intensity that never seemed to fade, no matter how hard he tried to mask it. He tolerated the man for the sake of the village, for the sake of his friendship with Hashirama- but barely.

“If you think that will help,” Madara replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. He didn’t bother hiding his displeasure as he stood abruptly, grabbing the scrolls with little care.

Hashirama looked at him with a mix of concern and exasperation. “I’m just suggesting it might help. Nothing more.”

Madara didn’t respond, turning on his heel and leaving the room. His footsteps were heavy, echoing through the halls as he descended to Tobirama’s office. The frustration he had been harboring over his clan was only growing, and the idea of seeing Tobirama, with his smug, superior attitude, only added fuel to the fire.

When he reached the door, it was closed. Of course- just like the Senju bastard himself. He raised a fist and banged on it with more force than necessary, the loud thud resonating through the corridor.

“Come in,” came the calm, collected voice of Tobirama from within.

Madara shoved the door open and stormed into the office, his expression like a thundercloud. Tobirama, sitting at his desk, red eyes glancing up from a scroll he had been reading, looked momentarily confused at the sudden intrusion.

“Is everything all right Uchiha?” Tobirama asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he observed Madara’s barely contained rage.

Without a word, Madara slammed the scrolls onto Tobirama’s desk with enough force to make several papers flutter to the ground, and some of the ink within the ink tray splashing out onto the wooden desk. “Hashirama wanted me to deliver these,” he spat, his voice laced with venom.

Tobirama blinked, clearly taken aback by the aggression, but kept his composure. “Thank you” he said, his voice even, though it was clear he was being cautious.

That polite, neutral tone only grated on Madara’s nerves further. How could Tobirama remain so calm, so irritatingly detached, while Madara’s world was unraveling? It felt like an insult, a personal attack on his ego.

“Thank me?” Madara scoffed, his lip a frown. “You’re as condescending as ever, Senju. Always acting so superior. You think you’re better than everyone, don’t you? Even now.”

Tobirama’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Madara. I’ve done nothing to provoke you.” Tobirama replied, using Madara’s first name in an attempt to calm the Uchiha down.

“Of course you haven’t,” Madara sneered, taking a step closer to the desk, his voice growing louder. “You’re a master at doing nothing and making everyone think you’re some kind of fucking god. All you do is sit there, looking down on everyone, judging from your high tower.”

Tobirama sighed and rolled up the scroll in front of him setting it aside, clearly realizing that Madara wasn’t going to leave without some sort of confrontation. “I don’t have time for this,” he said, his voice a little sharper now. “If you have an issue with me, say it plainly.”

Madara’s eyes flashed with anger. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You’ve been turning the Uchiha against me from the start! Whispering in their ears, planting seeds of doubt. I see it, Senju. I see what you’re trying to do.”

Tobirama’s eyes widened in genuine shock at such an accusation. “I’ve done no such thing. I want peace, Madara. We all do. That’s why we built this village—to end the fighting.”

“Peace?!” Madara’s voice exploded with rage. “You don’t want peace. You want the Uchiha gone! You’ve always wanted that, ever since we were children. You’re a war-hungry cunt, and nothing will ever change that!”

Tobirama stood up, hands slamming onto his desk as he glared at Madara. “You’re paranoid! I’ve done nothing to harm your clan or you. All I want is for this village to survive, even you.”

Madara’s fists clenched at his sides, and before he knew it, he could feel himself loosing control of his chakra. “You’re a liar,” he yelled out. “You’ve always hated us, and you’ll never stop, you probably sleep peacefully dreaming of slitting Uchiha children’s throats like the monster you are!”

“Enough! Get out,” Tobirama yelled, stepping out from behind his desk, his own temper rising to match Madara’s. He moved to push Madara out of the office, but in a flash, Madara’s eyes locked onto his, activating his Sharingan and the room seemed to shift in Tobirama’s vision.

Tobirama’s breath caught in his throat as his surroundings dissolved into darkness. The walls of his office vanished, replaced by an endless void. He was alone, completely alone and falling into a world of dark nothingness. His heart began to race as he looked around, panic seeping into his veins. He couldn’t see anything-

Suddenly, the sensation of cold water engulfed him. His body was submerged in an icy abyss, and he couldn’t tell which way was up or down. He kicked frantically, trying to find the surface, even going as far as expanding his senses in the attempt to find it- but there was none. His chest tightened as he struggled to breathe, water filling his lungs. It burned, his lungs were on fire.

He tried to form hand seals, to use his water techniques to escape, but nothing happened. His chakra felt useless, dissipating into the void. His vision began to blur as his panic heightened. He tried again, casting different jujutsu’s of different elements but nothing happened, even his flying thunder god was ineffective.

Then, out of the darkness, came the vibrations of something slicing through the water. Before Tobirama could react, sharp pain tore through him. A kunai struck him in the side, then another, and another. The weapons flew at him from every direction, stabbing into his flesh over and over, faster than he could comprehend. He groaned in pain, refusing to scream out in fear of more water filling his lungs. Blood mixed with the water, his mind darkening further as the relentless assault continued. All Tobirama could feel was searing pain.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t escape. His body was being torn apart, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was losing consciousness, however every time he thought he was completely loosing his life force he would regain full consciousness again like a giant loop of suffering and torture. He couldn’t escape even with death being his only option.

Back in the office, Tobirama’s body stumbled backward, his eyes wide and unfocused, hyperventilating as he clawed at his chest, desperately trying to break free of the genjutsu. He gasped for air, yet seemingly never getting enough. Tears threatened to spill as his body violently shook.

Suddenly the door burst open, and Hashirama rushed inside panicked, his face pale with worry. “What’s going on? I heard yelling—”

Then he saw Tobirama, his brother, stumbling backwards, his body trembling as he fought against the illusion, his hands making their way to his nape to scratch down his pale neck leaving angry red lines, his nails cutting just deep enough that blood seeped out in a few places. Hashirama’s heart dropped, seeing his younger brother look like he was in pure terror. “Madara, stop it!”

Madara blinked, the red in his eyes fading as he released Tobirama from the genjutsu. Immediately, Tobirama let out a scream, his back slamming into the wall as he slid down, hands gripping his head as if trying to shield himself from an unseen force.

Hashirama was at his side in an instant, wrapping his arms around him. “It’s okay- I’m here, you’re safe, you’re out of it now,” he murmured frantically, stroking Tobirama’s white hair as his brother cried into his chest. His eyes were squeezed shut, tears streaking down his pale cheeks and soaking into the fabric of Hashirama’s robes.

Madara stood frozen, watching in disbelief as Tobirama fell apart before his eyes. This wasn’t the reaction he had expected. He had seen Tobirama as strong, unbreakable, but here he was, clutching at Hashirama’s clothing, shaking and hyperventilating as if he were a young child terrified from a nightmare clutching their mother.

“What…what’s wrong with him?” Madara asked, his voice low, unsure.

Hashirama looked up at him, his expression a mixture of disappointment and worry, but his voice remained soft. “Tobirama has been haunted by the Sharingan since the war. The battles he endured left him with deep psychological scars— for years, he has struggled with the trauma and memories that he can’t escape.” Hashirama sighed deeply as he held onto Tobirama tighter… as if he were 13 again.

Madara felt a wave of guilt crash over him, as he looked down at the two men… Tobirama was a whimpering, shaking mess— completely consumed in a deep panic attack. He hadn’t known, hadn’t realized the depth of Tobirama’s trauma. He had only wanted to provoke him, to get a rise out of him, but this…this was too far.

“I didn’t mean to—” Madara started, but Hashirama cut him off, still holding his younger brother as if he were dying.

“I think it’s best if you leave for now, Madara. Take the rest of the day off. We’ll talk later.”

Madara opened his mouth, desperation spilling out as he tried to apologize once more. “Please… I can get him some water or anything—just let me help. I-I’m sorry; I had no idea, I thought he would get himself out of it.” He rambled desperately.

Hashirama shook his head, his expression a mix of pain and regret- for making Madara come to Tobirama’s office in the first place. “It’s fine Madara, just please go… I’ll take care of my brother.”

There was nothing left to say. Madara nodded, the weight of shame tightening around his throat like a noose. As he turned to leave the office, Tobirama’s quiet sobs reverberated in his ears, each sound a dagger that pierced his heart. He glanced back, and in that fleeting moment, he saw beneath Tobirama's stoic facade—a mask worn to conceal the scars of his past, the trauma buried deep within.

For the first time in a long time, regret washed over him, heavy and suffocating. He felt a profound sorrow for the pain he had caused, understanding that his actions had driven an even deeper wedge between them- he would never use Tobirama as an outlet for his frustrations ever again. Each step away from that office felt like a betrayal, the echoes of Tobirama's hurt following him like a haunting reminder of what he had done…

As Madara's footsteps faded down the hall, Hashirama let out a deep sigh. He gently ran a hand down Tobirama's trembling back, feeling the tension radiating through him- while his other hand rested over Tobirama’s chest feeling his heart beat still frantic "It's okay, Tobi. I'm here… I'm sorry," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Tobirama's head. The younger Senju whimpered, sniffling as he clutched harder at Hashirama's clothes, seeking comfort in his brother's presence. Hashirama's hand moved to Tobirama's neck, a warm green glow emanating from his palm as he healed the scratches marring his skin, soothing both his brother's mind and his frayed nerves. A relief washed over him, feeling Tobirama’s heart rate slowly coming down and breathing normalising as he continued to heal him.

Hashirama felt as though he were 15 again, cradling the blood soaked and trembling form of a young Tobirama in his arms. He had just rescued him from three adult Uchiha, their combined genjutsu overwhelming and suffocating, leaving Tobirama trapped in a nightmarish haze as they laughed and tormented him- abusing and torturing him violently in his dissociated helpless state…Blood smeared across Hashirama's face and skin, a grim reminder of the fight he won during his uncontrollable rage a few moments before, but all he could focus on was his brother- his last living brother which was so close to deaths door not even five minutes before. He pressed close, murmuring soft reassurances, "I’m here now- i won’t let them hurt you ever again Tobi... They’re gone now." Hashirama whispered, using his chakra to heal Tobirama’s bleeding wounds and to help ease his traumatised mind.