Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first child of Butsuma Senju is born at the stroke of midnight, when the moon is missing from the sky and the creatures are quiet and still in their burrows. Almost as if the world itself has fallen into hushed contemplation, waiting patiently with bated breath for the child’s birth. 

Not a leaf moved and the distant chirp of summer cicadas had gone utterly silent, making Butsuma’s ears ring and his hackles rise with the unnerving stillness. Then, a cry, and it all rushes back in, the quiet broken by sound once more. It’s like the world finally takes a long held breath. Or perhaps it’s all in his mind, and Butsuma is the only one who’d taken a breath.

Butsuma has never been one to be superstitious…and yet the feeling of near unnatural stillness in the forest around them, the prickly feeling of being watched by the trees themselves, will be forever engraved into his memory. He knows in that moment, somehow, that the child that has just been born will be powerful. 

His son is special. He would do great things. 

Those are the thoughts that go through his mind as he hears the cry of his first born in the main house behind him. His heart pounds, his blood surging with something that toes the line between pride and greed, the smug victorious satisfaction of a man who feels fate itself has bowed to his will simply because he holds the title of Senju clan head. 

Of course his child, his son, would be great, of course he would be powerful and healthy and…

Butsuma opens the door to the birthing room and freezes.

…and a girl?

It’s like a slap in the face to look down into the blood soaked birthing bed of his wife and see not a son, but a daughter in her arms. The midwife tells him the sex of the child squirming in her arms, but Butsuma can see even without her telling him just what the naked babe is lacking. His wife smiles at him, tired but happy, as if she’s done something worth being happy over.

He looks away from her, and he sees her body slump out of the corner of his eye. The last of her strength has clearly left her, and he knows by the red of the sheets and the rapidly draining well of her chakra what is to happen next.

As he glares down at the squalling baby, Uzumaki Mino dies in the birthing bed, a baby girl in her arms, with a name on her lips whispered as sweet and soft as their meaning - 

“ Hachi…mitsu…Hachimitsu…”

Dead. She is dead, and all she’s left him with is…this . 

Hachimitsu. 

A honey bee, when what I need is a wasp. Butsuma thinks with annoyance.

The midwife cries out in horror as she grasps the child before his wife’s suddenly limp arms drop her, but Butsuma simply turns and leaves with barely restrained anger. All his previous hope, the feeling of greatness he’d been convinced his child would live up to—all of it slips through his grasp as reality shows it’s ugly, deceitful, face to him.

Such is the life of a shinobi, always being disappointed.

His first born child, not a son, no, but a daughter. A daughter, now, when everything—his clan’s status in the daimyo’s court, his position amongst his clan as head, the alliance with the Uzumaki—it is all riding on a son, an heir . 

A daughter could not be a symbol of the Senju’s continued longevity, could not cement Butsuma’s strength as clan head, could not affirm the alliance with the Uzumaki by placing one of their blood as clan head one day...not unless she left to join the Uzumaki, in which case she’d be little more than a hostage. For a moment Butsuma wildly wonders if he could name her heir despite her sex, but dismisses the thought as soon as it comes with a scoff. There are clans that are headed by woman, the Hyuuga being the most infamous, but they are an exception to the rule and have a kekkei genkei besides. Here, in Aomori Province, a daughter could never approach the seat of a noble as heir to a shinobi clan without being laughed out of the room. The court of Daimyo Sagara is traditional, so much so that they struggle even to acknowledge the Senju’s kunoichi.

A daughter. He sighs. A daughter is…unacceptable. A daughter is useless.

Butsuma stops his pacing on the engawa, the sounds of cicadas swelling and then quieting. He turns and reenters the room where his wife lays dead, and the midwife is crying silently as she tries to quiet the newborn babe.

The sound of his tanto exiting its sheath breaks through the stillness of the room, and everything once more goes quiet, even his squealing daughter . He turns the tanto and offers it hilt first to the midwife without looking at her, still watching the squirming, healthy, girl.  

“Oyakata-sama…” The woman’s trembling voice stutters out, but he still does not look at her. He has no patience for weakness and tears, even, or perhaps especially, from a woman.

“You have failed your mistress. Do not dishonor your family by begging for your life.” Is all he says.

Strangely, his words seem to calm the old woman, despite confirming her own demise. Butsuma suspects it has something to do with the way the woman sighs in relief as she gently lays his daughter down upon the bed. The midwife must have assumed he meant her to kill the girl. Which is just ridiculous; if he meant to kill the babe he’d do it himself, he is no coward who would push the blood of his kills to another’s hands…

No, he is no kinslayer; if he were, his half-brother would long be dead and his position as heir secured.

In fact, a plan has begun to grow in his mind of a way to turn this disappointment in his favor. A daughter, yes, but a daughter seen by who? Only this feeble old woman, ready to give her life, and his dead wife.

“I will gladly follow my mistress into the Pure Lands, Oyakata-sama.” The midwife says with a bow of her head. “But, please, a-allow me to get my affairs in order before I—“

“No.” Butsuma says, because he cannot allow this woman to tell any other living soul what she has seen here this day. Not if he wishes his plan to succeed. “I will handle your affairs.”

“My…my family–”

“Your family will be well looked after, I swear it on my honor as clan head. A stipend twice your salary, until your grandchildren are grown. Is that acceptable?”

The woman nods, through her eyes stare up at him with naked hatred now. He simply raises a brow, and acknowledges her hatred with the ease of a man used to meeting Uchiha head on in battle. “Now…take the sword. Or shall you die a dishonorable death after all?”

The midwife shakes her head and takes the tanto, for she knows death awaits her whether by her own hand or his. If he were a kind man he’d give her a women’s death and call for poison, but to do so would mean to bring in servants he cannot afford to involve. 

The old women fails to press hard enough at her stomach the first time, weak and shaking. She falls to the floor, dropping the tanto and grasping her stomach with panicked hands. Butsuma feels a bit of pity and regret as he finally looks at the mess. He should have helped her press the sword in, he thinks to himself, and then he does just that. It’s the work of a moment to take the tanto and press it deep and swift. She breathes her last with her eyes locked on the babe only feet away.

She was no kunoichi, simply a retainer of the lowest class distantly related to the Senjirou, whose name only his wife had called familiarly. Her family may mourn her death but the stipend will keep them from questioning it with any fervor…and even if they did, they are inconsequential enough that no one will listen to them.

The baby is crying loudly now, and there’s nervous shuffling outside the fusuma that leads from the bedroom out into the corridor of the main house. A figure’s silhouette appears backlit against the thin paper of the shoji, and though Butsuma is no sensor, he knows this particular man’s chakra signature by heart.

“Oyakata-sama…” Comes the soft voice of Kondoro, his cousin and second in command, referring to him by the formal address. It makes Butsuma scoff to hear the man call him ‘honorable master of the clan.’ “The elder’s are getting more insistent. What shall I tell them?”

Butsuma reaches down to take the squalling baby in his arms, wrapping the child tightly in a nearby untouched swaddling blanket by the midwife’s dead body. He knows nothing of how to wrap a child properly, however, and he frowns as the baby quickly breaks free of its wrappings, squirming with strong angry movements. It makes him smile a bit; at least the child is clearly healthy.

“Tell them a son has been born. An heir to the Senju.” Butusuma says, and after a moment of thinking continues, “Mino is dead, and her companion has taken her life for the dishonor of failing in her duties to her midwife.” 

“I see.” Kondoro sighs, “…it seems then that both congratulations and condolences are in order, Oyakata-sama.” 

“Yes.” Butsuma says severely, glancing over at his wife of barely a year with a twinge of something as close to grief as he can allow himself to feel anymore. Then, he looks back to the ‘son’ she has born him and sighs. “Cousin. We’ll need to find a new caretaker for the child. A wet-nurse. Someone loyal and dedicated to the true line of the Senju.”

The phrasing is pointed, the familial address purposeful, and from the sudden stillness of his cousin outside Butsuma knows Kondoro has understood his intent. 

“Of course, cousin.” Kondoro says with a bow, mirroring the more familial address of ‘cousin.’ Butsuma knows that he has understood this to be a matter of utmost importance, to be kept only between them.

The room smells of death and grief, and so Butsuma leaves the bedroom for his wife’s adjoining receiving room. A Senjirou maid comes through and cleans the mess. Sometime later she softly opens the shoji separating the receiving room from the birthing room, holding a basin of clean water, and offers to wash the child for him. He refuses of course—though perhaps a bit too roughly by the way she quakes and sloshes some of the water onto the tatami matts in her fear. 

“Leave the basin, I shall do it.” He sighs in annoyance, tired of her stuttering. “No one is to enter the room unless accompanied by Kondoro, am I understood?”

“O-of course, Oyakata-sama! As you wish.” 

The maid sets the basin of water and washcloths down quickly, and Butsuma is left glaring at nothing. He despises the easily frightened, especially the servant girls, with their trembling hands that have never held a kunai, and their stuttering voices unused to speaking above a deferential whisper. They’re like mice in a recently harvested field, staring up at the sky, frozen in terror, no buckwheat stalks to hide them from the circling hawks. 

Once, Butsuma had been such a mouse, hiding and shivering, frozen in fear as his step mother loomed with a kunai bearing down on him. It’d only been sheer dumb luck that he’d tripped backwards before she could land her blow, allowing time for his uncle, Shibuma, to appear and slit her throat.

No child of mine will be a mouse, he thinks as he touches the curve of his ‘son’s’ cheek.

Some time later, after the child is clean and has screamed themselves into exhaustion, Butsuma is allowed some measure of peace to think. The situation is…not ideal, but he knows that he can salvage it if he acts quickly and cleverly. He has had no need for ‘sheer dumb luck’ in a long, long time.

That is the only reason he’s survived this long, after all. By being faster, stronger and more clever than his opponents—even those found within his own clan, including his own half brother Takanoma.

Butsuma may be older than Takanoma by ten years, with the advantage of experience and connections in the clan, but he has the disadvantage of being illegitimate on his shoulders. Being born out of wedlock led to his position as clan head being precarious, and it is even more so now that Takanoma is old enough to enter the battlefield. Several in the clan already feel the title should have gone to Takanoma with an Elder acting as regent until he comes of age. The most vocal of his half brothers supporters is his youngest uncle Hondōma, while his eldest uncle Shibuma supported Butsuma for clan head. As soon as Takanoma was born, it led to a rather clear division in the clan, one that only became truly apparent once his father died just two years past. 

As a child that division hadn’t been as clear to Butsuma, not until his step mother had tried to pin the first three cradle deaths of her sons on him. She’d insisted that he, a bastard , wished to secure his place as heir and so had poisoned his own brother's food. The thought he’d ever resort to poison, a woman's weapon, was almost more offensive than the idea he could become a kinslayer.  Thankfully his father hadn’t given much stock to his first wife’s words, and most of the rest of the clan had followed his example. The disregard of the clan and her three children’s deaths drove her into near insanity, until one night she’d tried to kill him to ‘save’ her newly born fourth and only surviving son…

Ironically she’d poisoned his food, and so when she snuck into his room in the dead of night the ten year old Butsuma had been sick and helpless, watching with the fearful eyes of a child as she raised her kunai to his neck. She’d failed of course, but only out of sheer dumb luck.

But Butsuma is no longer a child, no longer a mouse hoping for the mercy of a hawk. He is the head of the Senju and, despite that hard earned title and the many assassination attempts he’s had to field in order to gain it, Butsuma finds that it is harder now than it has ever been before to keep his head above water. 

He has struggled over the past two years since his father died to toe the line of division but never cross it, to maintain the balance without insulting either side…because as clan head all of the Senju are his to protect now, not only those that support him. One sure fire way to do that is to present a strong front, to show his line is healthy and secure.

He’s not a religious man, but Butsuma had prayed for a son. He’d prayed, because a son would solidify his position in a way no daughter could. The Uzumaki alliance would be strengthened with them thinking they’d have one of their blood in charge of the Senju someday and, with an heir, Butsuma would not be so easy to sideline by those that support Takanoma.

But no. His prayers, as usual, had not been answered.

And now he has a daughter that he must make a son.

“Cousin…” Kondoro calls from outside, and the familial address is enough to let Butsuma know they are alone. “I’ve returned with my sister-in-law Yano…and her father, Senjirou Tadashi.”

Senju Yano…a good choice, Butsuma nods to himself. She was a woman who’d recently married herself into the main Senju family, to Kondoro’s now deceased younger brother Haruma. Her child had been born a month ago, around the same time her husband had been killed protecting a traveling merchant caravan from murderous Uchiha. 

The raid had been headed by Butsuma’s half-brother, Takanoma; despite his lack of experience and young age Hondōma had insisted. There’d been whispers that the losses of their clan members could have been prevented had Takanoma been more aggressive in dealing with their attackers rather than turning and running. Butsuma has no doubt Senju Yano is amongst Butsuma’s most devout supporters now, considering the hate filled gaze he’d seen her direct towards Takanoma at her husband's funeral. 

And her father…well, Senjirou Tadashi loved his daughter, and he’s a respected healer within the clan, despite being from their cadet branch. Not to mention, he’d always supported Butsuma as heir above his brother Takanoma. As a member of the cadet branch Tadashi’s support hadn’t meant much, but he’d offered it all the same, and that is worth much in Butsuma’s eyes. 

Tadashi had always said Takanoma had too fearful a heart to be a clan head, and Butsuma agreed. Uncle Hondōma couldn’t see past his puritanical beliefs and love for the word ‘bastard’, but at least Butsuma has his father’s will on his side; a will which insisted upon his death that the clan be entrusted to his eldest son, out of wedlock or not. It is one of the few unarguable points in his favor.

“You may enter, Kondoro.” Butsuma says, and he nods at his cousin as he opens the fusuma and bows his head respectfully, quickly followed by Tadashi and his daughter Yano. 

“Now, before we proceed further…” Butsuma clears his throat, looking at them as seriously as he can. “I’m afraid I must ask you all to make an oath of silence for what I’m about to speak of. On your honor and that of your ancestors.” 

All of them look up at him and his child, varying levels of shock slackening their faces. Only Kondoro looks relatively unsurprised by his statement. Butsuma looks then to the young woman and her father, and both of them seem to understand after a moment's silence that, in the end, they have no real choice. They either make their vow…or leave and lose a valuable way to gain favor with the clan head.

“You know you have my loyalty, cousin.” Kondoro says with a quirk of his brow and a roll of his eyes. Here, among those they all know are loyal friends or family, he’s easier with his words than he would be otherwise. “But I also know you love your dramatics, so I suppose I’ll play along. I give you my vow of silence, and should it be broken so shall my honor, and with it my life forfeit.”

“Oyakata-sama.” Tadashi says immediately after Kondoro finishes, giving Butsuma a slow reverent bow. “As a Senjirou, I live only to serve clan Senju and its rightful clan head. I, Senjirou Tadashi, give you my vow of silence, and should it be broken so shall my honor, and with it my life forfeit.”

His daughter Yano repeats after her father, looking vaguely worried but honest in her vow. Butsuma pays her little attention, knowing that her father will keep her in line should she have loose enough lips to voice her worry.

“By now, you will have all heard of the son Mino has bore me.” Butsuma begins, cocking his head towards the child laying swaddled and asleep in a nearby basket. “But unfortunately, such words were…a lie.” 

He pulls the blanket back gently, frowning. Yano audibly gasps at the sight before her, Kondoro merely sighs, and Tadashi hums thoughtfully. 

“A necessary lie, to keep the peace and balance of the Senju.” Tadeshi says solemnly as Butsuma covers the child once more. 

“…a girl, then.” Kondoro mutters with a frown. “I understand the impulse to pass her off as a son, cousin, but—“

“Do you?” Butsuma cuts in severely. “Do you really understand what it would do to this clan to have my position as clan head so quickly undermined by the lack of an heir? Now of all times, when our position is already so uncertain within the clan, not to mention the daimyo’s court?”

Kondoro frowns but tilts his head down in a clear gesture of concession, and Butsuma sighs heavily. 

“I know this solution is a strange one, but theres the appropriate mourning period to consider; we can’t risk alienating the Uzumaki right now by taking another wife so soon. It will take time to find a new wife, and longer still for her to bear me another child, and what then if then it’s another girl? Or if the child dies in its infancy? Those that support my brother will only be content with the shadows for so long, and every year Takanoma grows older.”

“Oyakata-sama…” Tadashi says quietly, carefully, “Surely you know such a farce will eventually come to light, no matter how we try to hide it. It will be difficult, but doable, to hide such a thing when she’s still a child…but as she grows, and blooms as all women do, it will become impossible. And of course, eventually an heir needs to produce more heirs—”

Butsuma frowns at the man, and growls out, “Do I look like a fool Tadashi?”

Tadashi pales, “O-of course not, Oyakata-sama, but—“

“I only need this farce to last until I can produce a true heir. Enough time to acquire a new wife after the appropriate mourning period has passed, and for her to give me a son. Once he’s survived infancy and begun his training, then and only then can we worry about the truth coming out. At the most it will be ten years, I should think.”

“…and what of when that truth does come out, Oyakata-sama?” Tadashi says hesitantly. 

“Yes, exactly cousin.” Kondoro shakes his head, “The elders will be furious to find you’ve lied to them. The backlash could easily affect your standing enough to give Takanoma and his supporters the opportunity they’ve been looking for to unseat you, heir or not—“

“Then when the time comes, perhaps my ‘heir’ will simply disappear.” Butsuma says, sending the room into sudden heavy silence. 

“You…you don’t mean…” Yano chokes out, eyes tearing up and voice shaking. Butsuma nearly rolls his eyes at the womanly theatrics, but concedes he may have phrased it better.

“Of course, I do not mean to kill her. I am no Hagoromo or Kaguya. I simply meant we would say the child died in battle, perhaps shuffle her off somewhere until she’s come of age, seventeen or eighteen, and then bring her into the Senju family through marriage—or perhaps even say she’s a bastard Senjirou. She should be near unrecognizable by then, and who would look at her and see a long dead male heir anyways?”

“…Oh…oh…” Yano breathes a sigh of relief, looking embarrassed, “I apologize for my thoughtless words Oyakata-sama. I meant no offense.” 

It seems she’s not the only one that breathes a sigh of relief at his words though, and Butsuma glares a bit at his cousin for thinking so badly of him. Still, he can’t deny the thought did briefly cross his mind in the beginning stages of formulating this plan. It is not ideal to have the child die in the line of duty, but…she is a girl—who’s to say such a thing would not occur naturally anyways? 

Women are not meant for the front lines, after all, and this child will likely not have anywhere near the skill a male heir would display. If she were not his first born then she may have eventually grown into a strong kunoichi in her own right, but as his ‘heir’ she would be expected to specialize in ninjutsu and front line combat rather than the kunoichi arts of espionage, sabotage and tracking. 

“I suppose that sounds like a…well, I don’t want to say reasonable, but…a doable plan maybe?” Kondoro says after a long sigh. He looks harried, which Butsuma can’t blame him for. His cousin always was a bit of a worrier. “Not ideal, but…it may just work.”

“I’m glad I have your approval, Kondoro, not that I needed it.” Butsuma says wryly, causing his cousin to flash him a fleeting smirk.

“What’s our next move?” Kondoro says, quickly becoming serious again.

“From this moment on, the child is not a daughter, but a son.” Butsuma says. “I will need to think of an appropriately masculine name for him before the week ends…the one his mother gave him does not suit a male heir.”

Butsuma thinks it over for a moment before turning to look at the father and daughter duo. “Yano, with Mino dead the child will need a wet nurse and attendant. From here on out you will move into the main house to care for my son, including bathing and dressing him separately from all others. Your daughter Touka is welcome to join you, and shall be provided for equally…but the girl must not be made aware of my son’s true gender. Is that understood?”

“Thank you Oyakata-sama, I understand perfectly.” Yano says with a deep bow. “I am honored to be of service to the head family in such a way. I swear no others outside this room shall know the child as anything but your son.” 

“Good. And of course, as all children of the Senju name, he will require regular check ups by a healer. As head of the clan I am allowed a personal healer, but as yet I have not appointed one for my immediate family. As of today, Senjirou Tadashi, you will be the head healer of the Senju main family.”

The man seems taken aback by his words, shocked by the honor, but he quickly gains his sense back enough to bow deeply. “This lowly one thanks you, Oyakata-sama, for the honor to serve the Senju main family.”

Yano follows him, bowing low once more. When they look up at him, Butsuma stares deep into their eyes, searching for any sign of deceit, any sign that these two would betray him. He finds none, but even so he knows he cannot let them leave without the official seal of honor.

“Kondoro, my ink and brush if you would.” Butsuma says, and both Yano, Tadashi and eventually Kondoro begin peeling back the opening of their kimono to allow access to the space directly over their heart. All knew what taking a vow such as this entailed.

The process was slow and methodical to paint the seal of honor over their hearts, but as clan head Butsuma had done it a dozen times over by now. The process of inking it over their hearts reminded him of long ago memories of sitting by candlelight practicing the seal as his father rapped his knuckles every time he messed up a stroke. 

When it is done he has both of them prick their finger with a ceremonial knife and swipe it over the seal with a small burst of chakra. At once there is a burst of light, and then a moment later the kanji for ‘honor’ is replaced by a small triangle, red as blood. Kondoro, having already had a seal of honor placed upon him before when he vowed loyalty to Butsuma over Takanama, has two triangles now, one within the other.

“Should you go back on your vows, know that this seal will stop your heart instantly. You will live and die upon your honor.”

As one they bow deeply before Butsuma and his newborn son, accepting their fate.

—

The following week is filled with visits from members of the main Senju family, for both congratulations and condolences. They hold the funeral for Mino the day after her death and the birth of her child, but the wake is held five days later to allow for her direct Uzumaki relatives time to arrive and attend. 

Mino’s father, Mako and her cousin Michi—the brother to the Uzumaki clan head and the Uzumaki clan heir respectively—come by the main house to see the child on the last day before the naming ceremony. Their faces are long and full of grief, and they both stare at Butsuma’s heir for a long while, seeming to be in an almost trance, before they break with a gasp. Butsuma watches them turn to smile wistfully at one another, at a loss for what could possibly be going through their minds. The Uzumaki were always so damned hard to read, only barely beaten out by the Uchiha in terms of poker faces.

“Mino-chan…I hope you are looking down upon us and smiling from the calm beaches of the Pure Lands.” Mako says sadly.

“He will grow to be a strong shinobi,” Michi says solemnly, looking at the boy with distant eyes, as if he can see or sense something that Butsuma cannot. “I am certain of it, ojii-san.” 

“A formidable ally he will be to his friends, and a terrifying opponent to his enemies.” Mako nods at his nephew, before looking up at the grey sky with watery eyes. “You should be proud, my daughter. I see so much of you in him…”

After they turn away to return to their seats Butsuma picks up his yet unnamed child with curious eyes, turning him this way and that, trying to find the similarities to Mino that they’d seen, but finds himself at a loss. 

Mino had been slight and frail, with typical Uzumaki features. Pale skin, eyes the color of the blue-green Uzushio waters and hair thick and dark red. In contrast, their child has clearly taken after Butsuma, with his fine straight brown hair, eyes like coal and skin like…well, honey. There is little similarity that Butsuma can see between mother and child. 

Either way, the child is healthy and whole, with a serious set of lungs by the way he wails. That’s enough for Butsuma…although sometimes rather inconvenient.

Though Yano does her best to soothe the child—and he’s sure having her own month-old child to care for on top of his own does not help—the task is an impossible one. It’s as if the baby knows it has lost the one who bore it, and it cries with loss for a mother it will never have. Though Butsuma tries to sleep through the wailing, he is used to waking quickly and easily at the smallest sound. 

And, oh, is there sound.  

It takes only two nights of no sleep before he resigns himself to sleeping in his study. Though slightly uncomfortable, it’s a fine enough escape, and the first week passes quickly. Butsuma uses the nights of discomfort at his desk to think of the name he shall name his first born heir.

On the child’s seventh night alive, the naming ceremony finally comes. Butsuma goes, half sleep deprived, to the elders in the hall of ancestors, and presents to them the written name of his firstborn son upon a scroll. They bow and hold the scroll with reverence, reading it out to all assembled.

Senju Hashirama. 

Elder Shibima moves to take the scroll, bringing it reverently into the Hall of Heirs, meant only for the firstborn son of the clan head. Should the firstborn son die before taking the clan head seat, only then will the second born son’s scroll be moved into the Hall of Heirs, which is exactly why Butsuma’s name resides there but Takanoma’s does not.

The young ten year old Takanoma watches the ceremony with eyes full of envy, and Butsuma purposefully lets a smirk show when his brother looks over and finds him watching. The idiot looks away with a scowl and fierce blush of anger, but does nothing to smooth his expression. He’s never been particularly good at hiding his emotions.

“Senju Hashirama, first born to Senju Butsuma and Uzumaki Mino, heir to the Senju and all that serve them.” Elder Shibima says with a smile to Butsuma and the Uzumaki representatives as he places the scroll in its proper place beside Butsuma’s in the Hall of Heirs. On one side, the elders that support Takanoma do little to hide their displeasure, and on the other, those that support Butsuma practically ooze smug satisfaction.

Elder Shibima bows to the scrolls of those long dead as he leaves, each the name of a past Senju heir, each worthy of respect whether they became clan head or died before they could take the seat. Shibuma however, stops before the scroll of his brother, Butsuma’s father, and bows a second time out of respect and grief. The rest of the Elders follow in his footsteps, though there are those among them that do so half heartedly at best.

Afterwards, they retreat into the main courtyard to drink sake and plum wine. All in all, it is a rather unsightly affair of social preening and political pandering, and Butsuma is glad when it’s over so he can return to the solitude of the main house. He makes the rounds and speaks to all the elders, from both sides of the division, and spends some time with the Uzumaki giving his condolences for the loss of their sister and cousin, before attempting to take his leave. He is stopped by the request for a second drink with his great uncle, Elder Shibuma, and does so out of familial respect, but otherwise he stays only as long as is absolutely necessary. 

He uses the child as an excuse to retreat, something that would not have been permissible should his wife still be living to take the child away. But, being a widow, Butsuma is allowed some leniency in his ‘grieving.’

“So.” Kondoro says, appearing as if from nowhere as soon as Butsuma sits down for dinner. “Hashirama, huh. ‘The space between two pillars.’”

“I don’t remember asking you to dinner, Kondoro.” Butsuma sighs.

“Keeping up the family tradition of architectural names then?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?” Butsuma asks, but it’s more of a statement than an actual question. He knows his cousin’s opinion on the subject.

“Well…I mean besides finding that whole tradition rather borish myself…” Kondoro hums, then sends Butsuma a wry grin. “It’s not a very feminine name is it?” 

Butsuma pauses, glaring at Kondoro. “Be careful of what you speak. Or are you so dull of mind that you’ve already forgotten what’s upon your heart?”

Kondoro rolls his eyes, digging into a bowl of leftover cooked rice he must’ve stolen from the pantry. “Please. Your housemaid—Nari was it?—left for her rooms already, and no one else is around, I checked. Sensor, remember?”

With a sigh Butsuma decides to let it go this once, and digs into his hitsumabushi, feeling near starved after the rampant drinking of the naming ceremony. Nari did a particularly good job cooking the unagi precisely as he likes it, and the green onions are fresh and crisp on his tongue.

“If only you followed in her footsteps and left me in peace as well…”

“Cousin, don’t be that way~” Kondoro whined, poking him in the side as only he’d be brave enough to do. “I’m just curious…”

“Curious about what.” Butsuma says blandly.

Kondoro flicks a stray grain of rice at him, making his eyebrow twitch in annoyance. “What name Hashirama will take when he’s no longer Hashirama.”

“That is far in the future still…” Butsuma scoffs, but pauses, a memory coming back to him of whispered words on dying lips. 

Hachimitsu. That’s what Mino had said, hadn't she?

Honey. It makes him think of an old proverb, honey is sweet but the bee stings . A fitting name for a kunoichi, in a way. He scoffs to himself at the thought, for he’s certain that Mino did not have that interpretation in mind when she named their child—she was far too simple and kind for that. She was more the type to name the child after her favorite desert than anything with deeper meaning.

It sent a surprising pang through his heart to remember her smile as she ate honeycomb raw, the delighted squeal she would make whenever he brought her Akimichi made honey candy from the neighboring province of Mie. He swiftly pushes the feeling and memory aside. There is no point in dwelling on that which is gone forever. Better to forget and focus on practical matters, like the shit show that is his daughter turned son.

“His mother…Mino…she gave the child a name before she passed into the pure lands. I suppose he’ll take that name once the time is right.” He finally tells his cousin.

“Uh huh…and that name is…” Kondoro goads, leaning forward eagerly.

Butsuma just gives him his best, most severe ‘I have no time for your shit’ expression that he can manage.

“Aww, c’mon, you’re really not gonna tell me? I already took the oath!” Kondoro whines, “Don’t be like that. Just give me a hint - is it something related to flowers? Oooh, maybe something metaphorical? Hanako? Megumi? Or no, maybe—“

The sight of Kondoro’s face falling with every passing second of silence and unanswered guess is as sweet as the honey Mino named their child after. 

“Hitomi? Saki? Ugh, cousin, pleeaase,” he says as he throws himself on the ground dramatically, “you know I can’t stand a mysteryyyy~”

Really, the man is too nosy for his own good.

“Fine, fine! Just enough with your whining!” Butsuma finally says with a groan. “Hachimitsu. That is the name Mino chose.”

“Hachimitsu…Hachi-chan?” Kondoro stops where he’s flailing in exaggerated despondency, immediately dropping his frown for a bright grin. “Aww that’s so cute~! See, was that so hard cousin?”

“Yes.” Butsuma deadpans, “Now leave me to my food in peace, or I’ll have you on guard duty for a month.”

“That’s not very cute of you, cousin.”

“I am your clan head. I am not cute .”

“As you say, Oyakata-sama…”

Butsuma throws his sake cup at his cousin’s head, and rolls his eyes as the man finally runs out of the room, laughing all the way.

Chapter Text

Yano was born into the Senju branch clan, the Senjirou, to a father who’d made a name for himself amongst the cadet branch as a quick witted field medic, and a mother who was never meant to leave the battlefield behind for a life of house work. Yano married in the main family once she’d come of age, to one of Elder Shibuma's sons, Senju Haruma. It was a great honor gifted to her father, Butsuma said, for his service as a great healer. Yano knows that the move was a power play of sorts by the new clan head, a way to keep her father on his side rather than backing his younger brother Takanoma, but all the same Yano is forever grateful. After all, Butsuma's play for her father's loyalty allowed her to meet the love of her life, and gave her a child...

Like her mother before her, Yano became a kunoichi young, and a skilled one at that. As a cadet branch member she was often sent on the worst of the missions, to spare the main family from premature death. Canon fodder, her mother would whisper bitterly. Yano didn’t mind much, as it was an excuse to get out of the house and away from her mother. Sometimes she even joined her father, learning some field medicine where she could, but healing was never her forte; after all, Yano the Knife was meant to cut, not to heal. 

Like her mother before her, Yano's hands held a kunai like an extension of her arm. She had the highest kill count of all the kunoichi in the clan, both Senjirou and Senju…and yet here she is now, a woman grown with a child of her own, and Yano is determined to be anything but like her mother. She does not want to be nothing but a sharp edge, a harbinger of death come from the shadows, who will lose her purpose when she's forced to let go of her knife.

So she teaches her hands to soothe rather than hurt, to pinch her husband and then her daughters cheeks softly, with love rather than hate.

Her husband…Senju Haruma. He’d been her everything. The man who’d taken her hand in his and drawn her from the dark, the one who had shown her how to care in a world that has no mercy. Haruma who was, unlike her, never meant to hold a weapon, a man meant to love rather than hurt. 

He was made to be kind, her brother-in-law Kondoro often said, it was what got him killed...but I would not have had him any other way. He wouldn’t have been my brother any longer, if he weren’t so damned good.

The first month after his death, Yano woke every morning wishing that she could take his place. She’d be woken by the crow of roosters and think, if only he were here to hear it, rather than dead in the ground. She’d open her eyes to the sounds of her daughter's wails and think, he would have known what to do to quiet her, he would have been better at all of this. 

She wished often it had been her out there in the blood and muck of a battlefield rather than him. She wouldn’t have hesitated over the blazing red eyes of an Uchiha child; she would have cut them down without a second thought. But she was not there, pregnant and retired as she was when Haruma left on his mission, and so her rage and her anger instead fell to the boy they’d chosen to put in charge of his safety.

Takanoma.

Barely ten years old and Elder Hondōma decided he was experienced enough to take charge of a whole team of their shinobi. They’d been sent to protect a merchant group traveling through Tottori province, the Uchiha’s home territory, and they thought a child with barely ten years to his name was the best bet for such a dangerous mission? No matter how much time passed, Yano seethed when she thought of how the boy had called a retreat, let the mission fail and left her husband’s body to rot in the enemy's forests. 

She knew it was unfair of her, that the boy hadn’t chosen to be team captain—he was as much a pawn as she was in the schemes of the Senju elders—and yet still her rage persisted. Months now after his death and she still sometimes found her hand aching to grip her old knife, to leave everything behind and fall into the shadows, become that death bringer once more. She fantasizes about it in her waking moments, and dreams of it in her sleep...the thought consumes her.

Her daughter Touka was the only thing that snapped her out of that unbridled need for revenge. It hit her one day, as she held her kitchen knife so tightly she'd broken the grip; she’d been so lost in her fantasy she hadn’t heard Touka’s cries until her mother-in-law Mayu had shook her from her fugue, chastising her gently. Yano had quickly taken her daughter from Mayu's arms, her heart beating hard enough that she thought for a moment she was dying. Guilt ate at her as she stared down at her dark haired, pale skinned little girl, crying for her while she was too lost in dreams of death to even notice her.

She has a child. A piece of Haruma. She has a daughter, to teach and to protect and most importantly to love.

It's enough to remind her that she can’t afford to throw her life away chasing revenge, nor can she allow such rage and hatred to spoil what gentleness Haruma gifted her. She will not allow Touka to grow up like she did, always running towards danger to escape the pain of her mothers disregard. Yano will not be a woman already dead, her soul left to rot out in the battlefield she’s now been forbidden from.

And so she keeps teaching her hands to be gentle, to be kind. Her heart will forever be fragile with the loss of Haruma, but Touka fills it so sweetly that she can forget sometimes. 

Then comes the summons from the clan head for her and her father, delivered in the dead of night by her solemn-faced brother-in-law, Senju Kondoro. Yano’s mother has long been dead, but somehow she still feels her angry, envious gaze on the back of her neck when Kondoro comes to summon them. Her mother had always been angry that it’d been Yano who was allowed to marry into the main clan rather than her, although why Yano had never understood. Under the heavy gaze of the Senju elders, women of the main clan had little leeway to live life the way they wished. At least as a member of the branch clan there’d been some measure of freedom.

She leaves Touka with her mother-in-law Mayu, and when she returns she isn’t alone. She has a seal on her heart and a new child in her arms; Senju Hashirama. The ‘son’ who is a daughter, the child without a mother to love her.

Yano hardens her heart against the child’s soft, sweet, innocent face. She tells herself it is not her place to interfere, that she has her orders directly from the clan head, and a seal of honor placed on her heart to keep her secret. She may have married into the main family, as her mother always wished for, but that does not mean she has power here. She is still a widowed woman, a retired kunoichi at that, with a daughter rather than a son. Her father-in-law may be one of the most powerful elder's in the clan, but Shibuma can hardly look at her or Touka after the death of his son. His wife Mayu is a comfort to her at least, but she is old and ailing and only has power amongst the women of the clan. If Yano were to try and refuse Butsuma's offer, she is sure that she would have lost her life. She is lucky enough to have the favor of her brother-in-law Kondoro, who is known to be close to the clan head by lieu of being the same age and his cousin, but even he wouldn't have been able to protect her tonight. 

Yano looks down at the sleeping newborn baby beside her Touka, and feels that familiar curl of protectiveness in her stomach, despite her attempts to ignore it. It only takes a single smile for all her barriers to fall, and tears fill her eyes as she gives in. She may have given up the knife…but she promises herself, that what little power she has left will be used to protect these two young girls with her life.

And so, Yano pinches Hashirama and Touka’s cheeks with love and softness, just as Haruma taught her, and presses a kiss upon both her daughters' brows.

–

Despite all the love that Yano gives, Touka is a quiet, severe child. Her brows always seem perpetually angled downwards, and her mouth is always frowning. She makes Yano worry sometimes that she has somehow infected her during pregnancy with the despair she often felt at Haruma’s death. Hashirama, in contrast, is practically never seen without a smile, always a spirited, energetic, bright thing. 

So spirited in fact that it often becomes a point of annoyance for those caring for her. Her first three years of life are spent seemingly focused entirely on finding new ways to give Yano a heart attack. Yano and her father Tadashi thought the hardest thing about their new positions and lives would be keeping the secret carved into their hearts, but surprisingly it turns out to be the easiest. The real difficulty is keeping Hashirama from killing herself by wandering off to who knows where and putting who knows what in her mouth. 

It’s a quickly learned lesson that anything that’s left within her reach goes in her mouth, even if it’s a rock or grass or even a stick—in fact, Hashirama seems to prefer sticks the best. And, oh, is the child intent on getting out at any cost—and clever enough to do it too. Yano must keep her eyes on the girl at all times, or find herself turning around to find nothing but an empty space and a falling stomach.

Touka, on the other hand, is so easy and calm that Yano forgets she’s in the room sometimes. She loves to sit and work on learning to read, playing with toys or painting or plucking at Yano’s koto curiously. Her little girl finds her fussing annoying, and by the time she’s three and a half, and begun to grow her hair out from it's infant shave, she already prefers to dress herself. Yano despairs at every sign of independence, for what will it mean when her child grows up? What place for kindness will Yano’s hands find then? Will she go back to being Yano the Knife once her daughter no longer needs her? Would it matter if she did? Would anyone, even her aging father, care? 

Such thoughts are why it’s a relief that Hashirama, on the other hand, enjoys being doted on, although she ironically hates sitting still. It’s a challenge to keep the girl in one place long enough to take a bath, which is a concern because her escaping and running about the halls naked would likely mean Yano’s heart stopping...and only part of that would be the seal on said heart doing it.

Really though, it’s simple enough to keep Hashirama’s secret from prying eyes while she’s a baby, at least while she’s young. Bathing and dressing her privately, rather than in the compound’s public bathhouses, is not so strange considering she’s the Senju’s heir. However…things get a bit more difficult as Hashirama grows, gaining the ability to speak and, more dangerously, to ask questions. It especially becomes a problem after she turns three and begins her official training with the other boys of the clan, even if said training is more ‘play’ than actual fighting yet.

“Yano-san, how come I can’t go t' the public baths?” Hashirama asks one day while in said bath, “All the other boys go after training and stuff.”

“You are Oyakata-sama’s heir, bocchan.” She says, referring to him informally but properly as the clan head’s son. “You are allowed the privilege of a private bath.”

“But what if I don’ wanna have a priv-leg privit bath!” Hashirama stuttered over the words, still rather unconcerned with proper diction, at least in private like this.

“The priv-ilege of a pri-vate bath, bocchan.” She corrects calmly, “And this is not up for debate, Oyakata-sama has commanded it to be so.”

And then comes the pouting, which Yano despairs at, for Hashirama can pout better than any man, woman or child she has ever met in her life, save perhaps Kondoro. The girl seems to have perfected the ability to pout not just with her eyes or her mouth but her whole body. 

Hashirama throws herself under the water, her arms strewn out on the sides of the tub dramatically as if in the throes of death, bubbles escaping to the surface of the bath as she wails dramatically under water.

Yano is certain she must be taking private lessons from Kondoro in pouting. There’s no other explanation.

Still, pouting or no, Yano does not waver in her duty, for she is a Senju, even if officially only by marriage, and must uphold the dignity such a thing requires of her. She pulls the girl up by her hair, still short having only just begun to grow out after she turned three and had her kamioki ceremony. The girl had been excited when it began to grow long enough to gather in her hands, and Yano hates that she needs to keep it shorn short rather than allowing it to grow long as Touka’s does. She despairs at never teaching her how to style her long hair when she’s older, how to oil it and comb it and twist it into pretty shapes with pretty pins….

“You will bathe in private bocchan.” She says flatly, and then stares the girl down sternly until she huffs and drops her attempts to squirm back below the water. “End of discussion.”

“Can’t Touka-nee join me then?” She whines. “At least then it wouldn’t be so lonely…”

“Absolutely not.” Yano says with a gentle sternness that she’s only learned to inject into her voice after becoming a mother. Children seem to respond best to a certain level of hardness in the voice, but never respond well to shouting, not like soldiers on the battlefield. “Touka-chan is a girl, and you are a boy. Boy’s and girl’s do not bathe together.”

“But—the other’s do! In the public baths!”

Ah that’s— 

Yano looks to the side away from the girl nervously, grimacing.

True. Damnit.

Case in point—too clever for her own good.

“Hashirama, that’s enough!” She says, calling her by her given name rather than the usual ‘young master’ to show her seriousness. She decides the best option is simply to not entertain the argument further. “The more time you take to complain, the more time you’ll have to be away from the other boys, yes?” 

“But—“

Yano ignores her attempt to speak, instead turning her around in the bath so she can begin vigorously scrubbing her short dark hair. Yano’s eyebrow twitches as the three year old girl continues to whine, though now it’s mostly about how rough she’s being.

“Agh, Yano-san! Can’t you be genterler—that huuurts~”

“Gentler.” Yano corrects with a sigh. “Honestly, bocchan, you’ve just begun training as a shinobi. Surely by now you’ve toughened up enough to withstand something as minor as this.”

“Eeeh, Yano-san is so mean! This is worse than training.” She says, and then promptly lets out a far too loud cry of pain over a light tug to her hair which has Yano rolling her eyes at the dramatics. “Yano-saaaan! If I’m so special then you do as I say, right? So I say be gentler !”

“Ah. You’re right, bocchan.” Yano stops then and leans forward over the bath tub to smile sweetly at the girl—too sweetly maybe as she looks up at her with suddenly fearful eyes. She feels no remorse though, far too used to the girls dramatics to take her whining seriously.

“I’ll be gentle, no more tugging, I promise. Now take a deep breath~” She says liltingly, and then promptly shoves the girl down under the water to wash her hair out. She doesn’t tug, as promised, but rather just shakes the girls head under the water until bubbles start to pop up in the water.

“Ack!” Hashirma sputters as she comes up, tears streaming as she shoots water out her nose. “Tha- wash meeeeaaaaaan…”

Hashirama then promptly ducks again, takes a big gulp of water and spits it in Yano’s face in one long stream of water. Yano freezes, eyes wide and hair soaked flat to her head as she watches the little girl fall backwards into the water with a squealing laugh. The sight of Hashirama’s unfettered joy is finally too much for Yano, and she finds herself joining the girls laughter despite herself.

The little demon. She thinks fondly, despite herself, as she takes a towel to dry her face and hair.

Her smile falls from her face though as she watches Hashirama play in the tub, all alone. The little girl who lives as a boy because her father deems it so. She’s tried so very hard to stop herself from letting her personal feelings on the situation affect her duties, to keep some distance between her and the ‘young heir’ that she’s been tasked to care for.

She should have known it was a lost cause after the first time the girl smiled at her. Such a bright sweet smile…so open, so trusting…just like Haruma, Yano didn’t think Hashirama was meant for a life of death and destruction. 

Thankfully the rest of the bath and dressing goes without trouble, and Yano even gives Hashirama a piece of honey candy in reward…but of course the peace doesn’t last for long. She should have known the girl's silence meant she was thinking far too hard about something again.

“Ah…Yano-san…” Hashirama starts, uncharacteristically hesitant as Yano finishes tying the knot that holds her jinbei top closed. 

The unusual shyness causes dread to curl in her stomach. Still, she looks down at her with a raised eyebrow, voicelessly prompting the girl to continue despite every bone in her body saying that she won’t like whatever question comes from her mouth.

“If I’m a boy…and Touka-nee is a girl…how come I look like her and not a boy?”

Yano’s hands, still adjusting the knot of her jinbei, freeze. Between one breath and another a sense of doom tightens her chest. 

The ‘boy’ is just recently three a few months past, her hair grown to just over her ears, and has recently begun training with the other ‘boys’ her age in the clan. Hashirama has been going to the training grounds every day and returning sweaty and bruised and worst of all, thoughtful. She’d known as soon as she left her with the trainer that first day that this question would come, and yet still it surprised her to hear it.

Now. How does she answer? She will need to handle this gently and carefully to determine whether it is time for the girl to speak with Oyakata-sama, or if that time can be delayed yet.

“Whatever do you mean, bocchan?” Yano asks innocently, moving on to towel drying her short hair.

“I mean…I…I don’t look like them.” Hashirama says, even more unsure sounding now, whisper “…they have…a thing. Down there. ”

Yano looks into the girls eyes, a bit more serious now. “When did you see this?”

“In training. It takes foreeeever y’know, and sometimes we have t’pee before it’s done.” Hashirama squirms, looking confused and embarrassed. “The other’s just go in the bushes— standing up. I can’t do that. So yesterday I, um, looked, and they had a…thing. I don’t know, they look different down there than me.”

Fear suddenly strikes her heart, and Yano can’t help that her grip on the girl's shoulders tightens. “Hashirama, this is very important. I need to know, did you also pee in front of them?”

Hashirama looks a bit frightened by the intensity of her gaze on her, shifting in her grip and wincing a bit, but Yano doesn’t let up. This is, indeed, very important. “N-no, I didn’t. You told me not to ever, ever get naked or pee in front of other people. So I didn’t! I swear! I’ve been good…”

Yano breathes a sigh of relief at the honesty she sees in her eyes, her whole body deflating with the loss of the icy fear she’d felt. The seal on her chest aches with heat, whether real or imagined. “Good…that’s good, bocchan, you’re right, you’ve been good.”

Hashirama perks up at the praise and the familiar endearment, smiling a wobbly smile that quickly falls into a pout. “They say m’weird…Madoma-chan calls me ‘princess’ when I refuse to pee in the bushes.”

“…princess…” Yano mumbles to herself with a frown. She knows it doesn’t mean anything, it’s just boys being boys. Calling Hashirama that word doesn’t mean they suspect he is a she , but rather they think he’s spoiled and prissy and want to insult him. 

Still, it’s something to bring to the clan head’s attention all the same. Especially as, if she recalls correctly, Madoma’s father is their sensei; Senju Norito, who is the youngest son of Elder Hondōma, one of the strongest supporters for Takonoma to be clan head over Butsuma. Not to mention there’s been talk of marrying Norito’s younger sister Toki to Takonoma, solidifying the inner clan alliance. 

“Listen to me now, bocchan…no matter what they say, no matter what they call you, you must remain strong and do as I’ve told you. Do you understand?” 

The girl's brows furrow even as she nods. She will do as she’s told but Yano can tell she’s not happy about it. How much longer will it be before she finally breaks under peer pressure and does something foolish? How much longer before she loses patience and goes to another with her questions?

She is still young…but all the same, perhaps she’s old enough now that the lord must speak with her on this matter.

“I can’t answer your questions, bocchan,” Yano finally sighs, and means it literally because of the seal on her heart. “But I think perhaps Oyakata-sama can.”

That gets the girl's attention, and she looks up in confusion and slight worry. “Chichi-ue?”

Yano nods, “Your father’s just come back from a mission today I think, I will speak with him and send a request for a private audience.”

“Ah…o-okay.” Hashirama hesitantly says, and the look of mingled excitement and fear on the girl's face sends a pang of pity through Yano. She can’t imagine her daughter ever looking so fearful to meet her father…but then she doesn’t truly know what kind of father her husband would have been, does she? And she never will.

The thought hardens her heart against any anger she might feel towards the clan head for his questionable fathering, for she knows that, whatever his faults, he’s what’s best for the clan and her family’s safety. Takanoma must never be allowed to take over the clan—he’s far too young, naive, inexperienced. He’d lead them to ruin, as he did her husband.

“Just remember to be respectful and do as Oyakata-sama tells you, and there will be no reason to be afraid.”  Yano soothes, and presses a kiss to the girl's brow.

—

Hashirama is three years and four months old and clever enough to know that something isn’t quite right with what the adults tell him is ‘truth.’ 

Yano tells him he’s a boy, and everyone says only boys can be clan heir and that’s what he is, so it must be true. Hashirama dresses just like the other boys in jinbei rather than the long kimono of the girls, he learns to speak as the boys do, saying ‘boku’ or ‘ore’ rather than ‘watashi’ like the girls do, and he plays and trains like all the boys do; so of course he must be a boy.

And yet…he’s never felt like a boy. Whatever that means.

He doesn’t know how to say it aloud, or even where the feelings come from, only that they exist. What does it mean to be a boy? He doesn’t even know why he doesn’t feel right when he thinks of himself as a boy, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t mind the jinbei, even likes the shorts and short sleeves in the summer, but sometimes he’ll look at a pretty kimono and just… want. He’ll see Touka putting pretty pins in her hair, learning to sing or make pretty flower arrangements, getting to stay in the home with Yano and play all day while he is told only to train, train, train.

And he likes training, he does, but…there's another part of him that wants those soft sweet pretty things too. His favorite thing to do is lay in the fields after training and stare at the flowers, tracing each petal, admiring each one’s special uniqueness. He wonders what it would be like to be as pretty as a flower, as pretty as his step mother Chiba.

It’s not just those feelings of wrongness though. There’s other things that don’t quite make sense. He’s not supposed to bathe in front of anyone but Yano, he’s never supposed to undress in front of anyone but Yano or her father, Tadashi, he’s never supposed to relieve himself anywhere but a private toilet…

Before, those things never really seemed strange to him, but ever since he’s started learning under Norito-sensei with the other clan boys, he’s started noticing how odd those rules really are.

For one, the other boys of the clan around his age always go together to the baths after training, looking at him with confusion when he refuses, and of course they call him weird and fussy for not peeing in the bushes and holding it until he can use a real toilet. Madoma, the oldest of the clan boys in Hashirama’s group, especially seems to dislike him, always calling him names like ‘princess’ or ‘wussy.’ 

At first he couldn’t understand how they could do that, pee standing up. Hashirama couldn’t do that, after all. So one day he’d hid and snuck around the side to watch, and what he’d seen…Hashirama felt odd when he looked and saw how different the other boys were from him down there, felt like an outsider, felt… wrong.

He doesn’t look like them, like the other boys, and while a part of him is grateful for that–-because ew— another is worried. He doesn’t want that thing between their legs, but he should have it, shouldn’t he? Is he maybe…sick? Is there something wrong with him? Did…did maybe his ‘thing’ fall off when he was a baby?!

He’d been unable to stop thinking about it ever since he saw it, his thoughts spiraling into more and more outrageous theories, panic making him near dizzy. He’d hardly slept the night before, and today, with Yano, he couldn’t help but ask why even though he knows she dislikes when he gets too curious.

And here he is, with no answers, still confused and panicked, standing outside the door of the last person he wants to ask questions of. 

Senju Butsuma. 

The most important man in the entire clan…and also his father. A fact he knows more than feels, as Hashirama has had little contact with the man outside of awkward weekly family dinners, and even then any conversation is spent largely updating the man on his progress in his studies or his new training. His father’s wife, Hogoromo Chiba, largely ignores him during dinners, especially since she’d started growing large in the stomach again.

“Oyakata-sama, I’ve brought the young heir.” Yano says with a respectful bow outside the door that leads to his father’s study. 

“Come in.” His father’s stern voice comes from inside, deep and booming as it always is, and Hashirama swallows nervously as he enters and falls into a sloppy seiza.

“I greet you, chichi-ue…” Hashirama says awkwardly, attempting to bow and nearly falling on his face as he over extends himself. He chuckles nervously as he rights himself, scratching his head with embarrassment.

His father frowns at him, even as he nods at Yano to slide the door shut and leave them. Hashirama squirms a bit, having never been entirely alone with his father before.

“Yano told me you’ve been asking questions of a…concerning matter. That you think you’re different from the other boys.” His father says, humming thoughtfully. “Have you addressed anyone beside’s Yano with these questions?”

When Hashirama looks up at him he finds that his father is not even looking at him, focused instead on reading some scroll on his desk. It just makes him feel all the more nervous.

“No, chichi-ue…just Yano-san.” He manages to say nervously. “Am I…am I sick?”

Finally his father looks up at him, frowning. “What? You are not sick. You are…” His father sighs then, looking almost pained. 

“Hashirama, there are many things that you are still too young to understand, but you are of an age that you at least must know this. As shinobi, as members of the Senju main clan, we all have different roles to play in this life. Chiba’s role as my wife is to give me children, Kondoro’s role as my right hand man is to care for the clan when I am out in the field, and Tadashi’s role as head healer is to ensure the main family’s health and wellbeing, Yano’s role is to care for you and her daughter Touka.”

Hashirama nods along with his father’s words, eyes squinting and mouth pursed with focus as he tries to keep up with his father’s quick fire words.

“And finally, my role is to be the clan head of the Senju, and protect all within it. That role, that title, comes with the responsibility to be strong and maintain the balance and prosperity of the clan.” Butsuma says slowly, leaning forward to catch Hashirama’s eyes for the first time since he entered the room. 

“To do so, I must have an heir.” Butsuma says, and Hashirama feels pinned to a wall by his stare, like a butterfly in a case. “And I do have an heir, yes? Because I have you?”

“Yes?” Hashirama nods tentatively.

“And if you were a girl, would you still be able to be my heir?”

Hashirama’s nose wrinkles in thought, his mind going to the many girls in the clan, how different their lives are from his, how Touka hasn’t started training like he and the other boys have, how Yano doesn't even push her to learn her letters yet. He tries to think of whether he’s heard of any female heads of the clan in his lessons, but comes up with nothing. He realizes then that he can’t even name the wives or mothers of any of the past heads, besides Chiba and his own mother of course. 

“…no?” He finally settles on.

“No. You would not. Girl’s cannot become Senju clan heads.” Butsuma says with a nod. “And then I would be sitting here, a clan head with no heir to take my place should I die. That would mean I’ve failed at one of my responsibilities, failed my role. Do you understand?”

“I…I think so?” Hashirama scratches his head, confused. “But…I don’t…”

“I see you are still young enough that I must be blunt with you on this matter.” His father interrupts, and then does something strange with the seal on the wall closest to his desk. It glows, and the room goes strangely muffled, Hashirama’s ears popping uncomfortably.

“Hashirama—you are not like the other boys because you are not a boy at all.” Butsuma finally says as he sits back down, his face drawn and intense. “You are a girl. You were born female. This is the truth, this is reality. But I must have an heir, for the sake of the clan; this is also truth, this is also reality.”

For a moment, Hashirama simply cannot understand the words coming from his father’s mouth. But then, like sand through a sieve, they begin to reach him, begin to make sense even as they make no sense.

“…wha?” Hashirama can only say, mind spinning. “I…I’m a girl? But…I’m your heir? I…I’m not a girl, I’m a boy. Yano said…you said…how can I be…”

“I know this must be confusing. I am not the best at breaking news gently, nor am I much of a teacher, and for that, I apologize.” His father says, though to Hashirama he doesn’t look like he feels sorry at all. “Truthfully, I thought you were still too young to understand all of this…but Yano thought it best to get ahead of any questions you may ask of people who won’t…understand.”

“I don’t get it.” Is all Hashirama can manage, which only makes his father’s expression more severe.

“You were born a girl , your body is that of a girl. Yano, Tadashi, Kondoro and I, we know this. ” His father repeats slowly, “But, for the sake of the strength of our family and clan, a girl you cannot be . The clan needs a boy, a son, an heir. So a boy we must say you are, at least to everyone else besides us four.”

Hashirama desperately tries to wrap his head around his father’s words, but can’t quite manage it. He’s using so many big words and he just…he’s…a girl? That’s why he doesn’t look like the others, and yet…he is also a boy?

“I’m…a girl?”

“You were born so, yes.” His father sighs, “And when the time comes, you will be a girl once more, but for now you must be a boy. You must talk like a boy, walk like a boy, and train like a boy. Although you are not one, everyone must believe you are one. Like the plays that the traveling troupes sometimes put on, you must act as something you are not. Do you understand?”

“Oh…I, I guess?” Hashirama stutters out, a strange buzzing tightening his chest that he can’t control. It feels like his whole world has been turned on its head, all the while his father is telling him that he must go on as if nothing has changed. 

Hashirama nods mindlessly even as his–her?--chest tightens with panic to the point of bursting. 

I’m a girl Echoes on repeat in Hashirama’s mind, folding it and unfolding it, remaking everything that they know anew, rearranging the world in new and not unwelcome ways.For the first time Hashirama thinks of themself not as a strange wrong boy but as a girl . 

It feels right.  

Still it’s too much all at once, and he pushes the thought of it aside, to the back of his mind where he keeps all the things that he only thinks about when he’s alone in the dead of night.

“...It will be like when you play disguise with your sensei.” His father says after a moment of silence. “You enjoy those don’t you? A game of pretend.”

He does like the games of pretend, where they all practice acting like people they aren’t, working on their voice, their walk, until they can mimic one another. Sometimes the other boys would use it as a chance to make fun of Hashirama though…

“What…what happens if they do? If they find out I’m not…not a real boy?”

His father sighs, brows lowered, eyes sharp, and Hashirama shrinks as Butsuma looms like a mountain. “Should anyone discover your true gender, then I shall have to remove them.”

“R-remove…?” He can’t control the shaking of his hands on his knees, legs long gone numb beneath him. He’s been raised in shinobi clan, one of the greatest of the clans even, so even at three he knows what ‘remove’ means. Death is not uncommon in this clan, and seeing your family members come back from missions with linen covered dead is not pleasant, even when they aren’t people Hashirama knew personally.

“Yes, remove…and should it not be possible to remove all those who discover the secret, or should the news spread before I can…well. I will likely lose my position as clan head, and you will certainly be removed from the line of succession. Then, your uncle Takanoma will take my position, and the clan will be split between us, loyalties divided…unbalanced. With any imbalance, there comes weakness, and what happens to those that show weakness, Hashirama?”

This question Hashirama knows the answer to. His father has asked him often enough after all.

“Your enemies will ex–exploit it.” He stutters over the word.

“Exactly.” Butsuma whispers back. “Do you understand now how important this is? The fate of the clan, your family, is reliant on this staying secret. On you being a boy, not a girl.”

Hashirama sits in silence for a long while, trembling and hardly breathing. He doesn’t know what to say, overwhelmed by the influx of information and the tilting of everything he knows to be true. 

But, there’s one thing he’s still sure of. Hashirama wants to be good. A good shinobi, a good heir, a good Senju, a good…son. Daughter? He’s not sure just what that means to him yet, what it means that he’s a girl rather than a boy. It feels right, it feels good but also bad, because it means he’s not wrong but he’s not allowed to be right either…besides, what does it mean to be a girl?

“Then…I’ll be a girl again someday…?” Hashirama asks tentatively.

His father merely hums, tapping his fingers against his wooden desk. “Your step mother has gone into labor today. Do you know what that means?” 

“Mama-haha is going into…labor?” Hashirama sounds the unfamiliar word, careful to call Chiba the proper respectful title of ‘step mother.’ The one time he’d forgotten himself and called her haha-ue, the title for honorable mother, he’d gotten slapped so hard his ears had rung for a good five minutes.

“It means she will have the baby soon. A brother or a sister for you. Preferably a brother...and hopefully healthy this time.”

Hashirama nods, and though he doesn’t really understand exactly how it works, he knows at least that when his step mother gets fat like she has been lately it means he might get a new baby brother or sister. 

He’d been really disappointed when it didn’t happen last time. When he'd asked Chiba where the baby’d gone she got really angry and hit him again, saying it was his fault. He’d cried later to Yano, who’d told him she was just hurt and didn’t mean it. Yano said that the baby had just missed the Pure Lands too much to stay, and so had decided to go back there. 

Hashirama hopes that this new sibling decides they like this world enough to stay this time, because he thinks it’d be really fun to have a sibling he could play with. He’s not really allowed to play with the other clan kids much after all.

“And should the baby be a boy…that child will become my true heir.” Butsuma continues, and Hashirama startles, hands clenching in the patterned shorts of his jinbei. “Not immediately, of course. Babies often die in their infancy…or are born dead like the last one was. But, should the boy survive until he is old enough to prove his ability as a shinobi, then you will be eventually relieved of your duties and your role, and will not have to suffer this lie any longer.”

Suffer this lie… is he suffering? Hashirama hasn’t ever really thought about it. He always thought it was a bit strange and lonely how he was so secluded from everyone, but he likes training and learning well enough. Sometimes he wished he could stay with Touka and learn to make music and paintings and flower arrangements, maybe wear the pretty kimonos and hair pieces she does. The thought of losing his title as heir though makes several different emotions rise up in him, both good and bad. He’d always rather disliked the way the other boys always laughed at him when Norito-sensei pointed out his title and his status, using it as a way to ‘motivate’ him to do better.

“The heir to the Senju clan and you can’t even do this?” He’d always say, no matter how small the accomplishment, “I suppose Oyakata-sama’s talent must have skipped a generation…”

And then there was the way that Chiba, his step mother, always frowned at him whenever a maid or clan member called him the heir. She’d sneer, spitting biting words he didn’t understand…but he knew enough to get that she disliked him because he was his father’s first born; Yano had told him so too. Chiba wanted her own child to be heir, not Hashirama…so maybe, if Hashirama were a girl…would she like him then? If Hashirama becomes a girl, then would everyone like him— her more?

“I’m sure you have much to think about.” His father says, breaking through his thoughts. When Hashirama looks up, his father stares into his eyes for a long moment, long enough that his eyes begin to burn from not blinking. Although even when he blinks they keep burning strangely. “You will tell no one of what we’ve spoken of, not unless it’s Yano or Tadashi, and even then, only if you are absolutely sure you are alone. Understood?”

The only true answer Hashirama could give is ‘No, no he does not understand .’ But Hashirama is four and clever and he knows that one does not tell Senju Butsuma ‘no,’ father or not. So he does what any good shinobi would do…

He lies.

“Yes, I understand, chichi-ue.” 

—

That night, Hashirama lays in his futon and stares blankly at the ceiling as Yano tucks him into bed. In the far distance a muffled cry breaks the silence, and Hashirama flinches every time. He still vaguely remembers Chiba’s screams the last time she went into labor, how she’d screamed and cried so loudly it’d reached Hashirama even in his dreams.

“What does it mean to be a daughter, Yano-san?” He asks to distract himself.

Yano hesitates only a moment before going back to smoothing the cover over Hashirama’s chest. 

“That…is a complicated question to answer.” She says, “I suppose it means much the same to be a daughter as it does to be a son. You must serve your parents dutifully and bring honor to the family. The only thing that is different is how you bring that honor.”

“So as a daughter…I wouldn’t bring honor by being the heir?”

“...no. As a daughter it's far more likely that you would serve the Senju through marriage,” She says, “Securing an alliance through a child perhaps.”

Hashirama’s nose wrinkles at that, thinking of Chiba and her round stomach, of her screams in the distance, and how she seemed to do little but have meetings with the ladies of the clan and laugh meanly at other people. If that was what marriage and a child did to someone then Hashirama didn’t want it. 

“So I couldn’t be a shinobi?”

“Well…all members of the clan must go through some training, even the daughters.” Yano says, looking briefly behind her to where her daughter sleeps in the room beside Hashirama’s. “And if a daughter shows particular promise in the shinobi arts, then her marriage may be postponed until she has served her usefulness as a kunoichi.”

“Kun-o-ichi…” Hashirama sounds out carefully, recognizing the word from around the compound. He thinks of the woman it’d been directed at, often dressed in armor like the men, and smiles. “Is it different from a shinobi?”

“In some ways,” Yano smiles, “...but perhaps not as many as the men would like you to believe.”

Hashirama watches with wide eyes as he’s shown a brief glimpse of a Yano he’s never been allowed to see before. A sharp, cunning one, with the same pride as he sees in the other clan members' eyes when they come back from a successful mission. A vision of Yano flashes in front of his eyes, her long shiny black hair pulled up in a severe top knot, her kimono traded for scaled currass and graves, her kitchen knife replaced with a kunai.

“Were you a kunoichi!?” Hashirama squeals in shock, sitting up and throwing the covers off of himself. 

Yano gives him a deadpan look, urging him to lay back down, “Is it that surprising? I was only allowed to marry into the main Senju line because I was so skilled after all. I proved my worth as a kunoichi, and in return I was allowed the honor of leaving the cadet branch.”

“You must’ve been really good….” Hashirama says in awe, and that gets a little smirk to grace Yano’s face once more. It looks almost sad though this time.

“Yes…I was.” 

“You miss it?” Hashirama whispers.

“You…are such an insightful child it scares me sometimes…” Yano huffs a laugh, shaking her head and looking over her shoulder at where the door to Touka and her room lies. Her eyes get a bit brighter after a moment, that sadness disappearing. “…I suppose I do, a little. But now I am a mother to a wonderful daughter. It was a worthy sacrifice to ensure she does not lose a second parent…and I find I enjoy allowing myself to be soft.”

…a wonderful daughter. Hashirama frowns, feeling something ugly grow in his chest. The same feeling that grew larger and larger in his chest every time he saw Yano playing with Touka, everytime his step mother would rebuke him for being too familiar, every time he saw the other boys running to their mothers at the end of practice, everytime his father told him he was lacking, that he needed to train harder, be better .

Hashirama is not a good son, clearly, but for a moment tonight he’d thought…maybe that was because he wasn’t meant to be a son, but rather a daughter . 

I wish I could be your daughter. He thinks.

“Hashirama-kun…” Yano whispers, her face startled. It’s only then that Hashirama realizes that he’s said it aloud, rather than kept the words in his head. 

“S-sorry…” He says, face reddening with embarrassment. He promptly turns over to face the wall as he realizes that tears are burning in his eyes. “Forget I said it.”

He curls in on himself, Norito-sensei’s mantra of boys don’t cry repeating over and over in his mind. But then, he’s not a boy is he? So maybe it’s okay if he cries? He lets a few tears flow over, and sniffles.

A hand touches his back and he startles, but doesn’t turn around. It’s Yano’s hand, rubbing back and forth, so gentle and warm, each pass forming larger cracks in the wall he’s built around his emotions. She says nothing as a sob finally breaks free, but her hand never stops its slow circular motions.

Hashirama leans back into it, silently crying over the loss of something they don’t even fully understand, all that could have been and all that is. Yano draws closer, her arms wrapping around to hold them close and Hashirama forgets to breathe for a moment. 

“You are not mine, not by blood…but in my heart…” She whispers, letting her sentence trail off as her voice cracks. “For now, this is all I can offer you Hachi-chan.”

Hashirama has never heard Yano use such a nickname, never been called anything but bocchan or on rare occasions Hashirama-kun, but something about it rings true and right. They turn and press their face into Yano’s shoulder, desperately trying to calm their breathing as Norito-sensei taught them, to regain control of their emotions.

“Shhh, it’s okay Hachi-chan. Let go. I’m here.” Yano whispers quietly, “I can’t protect you from the world but…I can give you this. A safe place to lay your head and cry, a place where you can let it all out.”

Hashirama sniffs and hiccups, shaking their head in denial. There’s a fearful feeling in their chest, that says once they start they won’t be able to stop.

“...every bit of your anger and your sadness…I will take it.” Yano continues, holding them closer to her soft chest. “Give it to me. I will shoulder your burden.” 

“Okaa-san…” Hashirama gasps out, before the dam breaks and overwhelms them—overwhelms her . With every gasp of breath Hashirama lets go of something kept furled and hidden in their chest, a secret thought or hope or dream let loose. Each time she felt wrong, or anxious or sad, all the confused longing and disappointment and relief, all let loose at once.

In the distance Chiba’s muffled cries harmonize with Hashiramas’ own, both of them bleating their pain into the silent night air…a woman grown and a girl still a babe.

Though most of the Senju do not know it, both a son and a daughter are born that night.

Chapter Text

By the end of the night, Hashirama has a brother. Officially they’re not allowed to visit the baby until the end of their isolation period, for the ‘mother and babies safety’ Yano says but Hashirama thinks that’s stupid. What’s dangerous about just letting Hashirama come and see him? He knows his father has already met him…

Unfortunately, though Hashirama is sorely tempted to sneak a peak before then, Yano seems to have anticipated her thoughts as she sleeps in her room every night that week. Truthfully Hashirama isn’t so disappointed by that, as she likes having her near. 

They do not speak about what happened the night Hashirama spoke with her father, but it is not ignored either. It’s there in the soft quiet moments between ‘I’m back’ and ‘welcome home,’ in the gentle kiss Yano now presses to Hashirama’s head after she’s done brushing her hair, in the way that she lets her sit in on her lessons with Touka, or the way she’ll call her Hachi-chan when she’s sure they’re entirely alone. 

But still, despite enjoying the newfound closeness with Yano…Hashirama still really wants to go against her orders and sneak out and see her new brother. Yano seems to clearly know this too, since she refuses to leave Hashirama to sleep alone. When she pouts at Yano and asks her why she’s sleeping in her rooms the woman simply gives her a creepy all knowing smile as an answer. 

Hashirama shudders every time she sees it. What’s worse is that she thinks Touka has begun to learn it; the horror of seeing the little girl trying to copy her mother’s terrifying smile gives her nightmares.

Finally, after a week, her brother’s naming ceremony comes, and by then Hashirama is practically shaking with excitement to see her little brother. She manages to hold in her excitement the whole morning, getting through their early training session, bathing, and dressing…but as soon as they’re at breakfast she can’t contain the excitement anymore.

“I’m gonna meet my little brother todaaaay!” Hashirama squeals, reaching over and shaking Touka’s shoulders back and forth. “How can you all be so calm?! Didn’t you hear me? I’m a big brother now!”

“Yes, yes, I heard you!” Touka whines, holding the ear closest to Hashirama’s mouth. “Now stop yelling, ‘s too early!”

Hashirama squeals again in response and shakes Touka harder, to Yano’s voiced disapproval. 

“Hashirama! That’s enough.” Yano tuts, “Leave Touka-chan alone and come eat your dinner, we’re on a tight schedule–”

“Okay, okay–!”

And that's when it all falls apart. Hashirama goes to do as she’s told, reaching for her bowl of rice, but her knee accidentally hits her bowl of miso soup, knocking it into her lap. Hashirama yelps, standing abruptly and flailing backwards into Touka, who yelps as she falls and knocks her own bowl of miso soup right into Yano’s lap…

A lap dressed in a very fine ornate formal kimono.

Both Hashirama and Touka freeze, looking at Yano's soiled lap and then slowly up to her furious face. Sweat pools on Hashirama’s head as the three year old girl laughs nervously. “Oops?”

–

A half hour later, with Yano dressed in a new kimono, they trudge out from the east wing of the main house into the brisk winter air as they make their way slowly towards the ancestors hall. Hashirama see’s her father in the distance, the first since that conversation a week ago, but doesn’t see Chiba nor her little brother.

“Aww, I was hoping to catch a peek before everyone else did…” Hashirama pouts as she spins around to try and find Chiba and her new sibling anywhere in the crowd of Senju.

“That’s unlikely considering that we’re running late.” Yano tuts. “Perhaps if you could have contained yourself we wouldn’t have been the last to leave the house. Even Touka-chan was forced to leave with Kondoro-san without us.”

“But that’s not my fault, you took forever to change into a new kimono~” Hashirama can’t help but whine.

“Ah, yes and whose fault is it that I had to change, hm?” Yano says with a creepy smile. Hashirama watches it twitch while nervously laughing and edging away.

“Touka-nee’s?”

Yano laughs, but it’s not a nice sound. “Now, now, what have I said about lying bocchan~?”

Hashirama pouts, “...It was mine, and I’m sorry.”

“There, was that so hard?” Yano says, patting her head. Hashirama continues to pout though, because yes, it was hard!

Hashirama eyes a passing boy, older than her and dressed formally on his way up the hill. She wrinkles her nose at all the heavy looking garments he’s wearing, knowing eventually she’ll also have to wear them. First the cotton weave undergarments, and then the thin white kimono, held securely with a thick sash, and then a lined heavier kimono in dark blue. On top of that are striped grey hakama pants, tied with an ornate knot, and then finally over top it all, a heavy formal haori accented with three Senju clan mon, held together by another decorative knotted cord. 

She dreads the day she has her fifth birthday and will then be required to wear formal hakama and haori to events such as this…she envies Touka in a way, since she won’t be required to wear formal clothes until she’s seven. Although, to be fair, the womens formal clothes looked far more restrictive and annoying than the mens from what she’d seen of Yano getting ready today.

“There’s too many layers…” Hashirama huffs, pouting. “Do I really have to wear all that someday?”

Yano simply flicks her nose, a favorite pastime of hers when Hashirama is being particularly annoying. She gives a rather dramatic cry of pain, just because she can, and also because she finds it funny to see Yano roll her eyes. “Be grateful, Bocchan, the women’s kimono is twice as heavy as the mens.”

The underlying reminder that if things were different Hashirama would be wearing said kimono rather than the men's hakama quiets the girl. Yano gives her a warning look, seemingly reading her mind, and Hashirama has to look away with a pout before she sticks his tongue out at her. She wasn’t going to say anything about it, she’s not stupid …just because the past seven days has seen her asking Yano nonstop questions about what it’s like to be a girl doesn’t mean she would ask about it now. She knows there’s too many eyes and ears on them right now. Such things are meant to be asked as a whisper in the quiet of Hashirama’s room at night.

It’s dark out, but the lanterns are hanging in the streets of the compound, lighting the way past the gated and walled homes of various Senju clan members. They walk higher and higher until they reach the top of the hill where the red and green painted columns of the hall of ancestors sit. From the top of this hill Hashirama stares wide eyed at the expanse of forest in front of them. Far off in the distance she can see the smoke trails of a large settlement, at the center of which is a massive multi level palace, its roof shining green and its walls painted dark brown; like a particularly tall and large tree popping out of the forests.

“What’s that?” She asks curiously.

“Ah, I’m surprised Norito-sensei hasn’t told you yet.” Yano says as her eyes dart about distractedly, “That's Aomori castle, where the daimyo of these lands lives and holds court. As heir, someday you’ll be expected to go there to pay fealty and except missions.”

Hashirama hums in acknowledgment. She knows who Daimyo Sagara is of course, and that he rules over Aomori province, which they live in. “It’s so far away, but I can still see it! I didn’t know houses could get that big…and there’s so many little ones too.”

“Yes, it’s called a castle, not a house. As daimyo-heika’s favored shinobi clan, we are honored with the right to live on his lands as well as protect the royal family, Aomori castle, and the city surrounding it—” Yano trails off, raising her hand to wave someone she’s just seen down. “Ah, Kondoro-san, there you are! You left before us, how did we get here before you?!”

“Apologies Yano-san, Touka-chan here was dragging me all around the village to see everyone!” Kondoro said with a pout, “Such a rambunctious child, so friendly with everyone, I’m exhausted~”

Hashirama looks from her father’s cousin to the stalwart and ever serious three and a half year old Touka, blinking in disbelief. Touka? Quiet, introverted, rule-abiding Touka? She’s the one who is so rambunctious she made them late?

“That’s a lie okaa-san!” Touka immediately cuts in, proving Hashirama’s doubts. She swings her head around to frown at her mother, her tiny eyebrows going near vertical. “Kaa-san, he got us lost on the way here looking for flowers , and I tried to get us back on the path, but then he wanted to follow a line of bugs and—”

“Ah, hahaha–!” Kondoro puts a hand over the offended Touka’s mouth, muffling her as she glares up at him. “Kids…they have such active imaginations don’t they?” 

“Indeed.” Yano says with an exasperated sigh that says she doesn't believe a word Kondoro is saying. “Come with me Touka-chan, it’s okay.”

The little girl runs to her mother, dark hair bouncing in its tiny ponytail on the crown of her head. She sticks her tongue out at Kondoro as she reaches Yano’s skirts, but only seems more angry when it just makes Kondoro laugh. Yano sighs long sufferingly, stepping between them to break the line of sight between him and an increasingly furious Touka. 

“We will take our leave now. Please take care of Bocchan, Kondoro-san.”

“Of course, thanks for your help Yano-san.” Kondoro says with a chuckle, taking Hashirama’s hand in his own. Hashirama watches as Yano and Touka leave, feeling jealous. She likes Kondoro—he’s the only fun adult she’s ever met—but she’d still rather Yano stay at her side. After being so close these past seven days it feels strange to be without her.

Kondoro leads Hashirama into the shrine where the Senju hall of ancestors lies. At the end of the hall sits her father and his wife, and Hashirama nearly vibrates with excitement when she sees the tiny swaddled form held in her arms. Hashirama frowns as she realizes he’s so covered up that she can’t even see what color his hair is, and his face is pressed tight to Chiba’s chest. tugs at Kondoro’s haori sleeve, frowning.

“Why’s he so covered up?” She whispers as they move to sit in rows on the tatami before her father.

Kondoro glances down at her from the corner of his dark eye, raising a brow. “Hm? Well it is winter…”

Hashirama purses her lips in annoyance, realizing he’s right; it’s a particularly chilly February day. Disappointment coils in her stomach as all her excitement from this morning drops to her feet. 

“I’m sure you’ll get to see him better later, back in the main house.” Konodoro says, clearly seeing her disappointment. Hashirama nods with a pout as she watches a procession of people begin to form to pay their respects to Chiba and her father.

“Well wishes and congratulations to Oyakata-sama and Okugata-sama on the birth of their second son.” Yano says to Butsuma and Chiba, referring to them formally as ‘the honorable head master and lady of the clan’, and slowly Touka stutteringly parrots her.

Hashirama nervously watches Yano and Touka bow to her father and step mother before doing the same to the elders sitting perpendicular to them, and then retreating to the area at the back, where non-direct Senju family members stand. It’s only when Kondoro pulls her forward gently that she can no longer draw out her slow steps, and she reaches where her father and step-mother sit.

“W-well wishes and congratulations to Oyakata-sama and Okugata-sama.” She says, repeating after Yano without thinking. A round of muffled scoffs goes around the room and next to her Kondoro stifles a laugh. Hashirama’s face flushes bright red as she realizes she’s referred to them far too formally; she might as well say she’s not her father’s child and heir to be speaks so distantly.

“I-I mean, chichi-ue and mama-haha.” Hashirama corrects herself, “Congrats! On your second son, I mean your first son, mama-haha, but chichi-ue’s second son, and my first brother, I mean…uh.”

“Ooookay, let’s go kid.” Kondoro whispers, putting his hand on her head to push it into a bow which he mirrors. “Well wishes to you, Oyakata-sama, Okugata-sama, on the birth of your second son.”

“...Thank you, cousin.” Hashirama hears her father say with a deep sigh; she reddens at the clear annoyance in his voice.

Hashirama bows low again and only briefly stumbles on her way to her seat beside her father, who sighs again. Deeply embarrassed, she sits stiffly for a long moment, until more well wishers distract the eyes away from her. Kondoro, sitting to her right, pats her knee in comfort as subtly as he can.

“Well wishes to you Oyakata-sama, Okugata-sama…” Over and over and over again the words fall from the mouths of every adult in the clan, from Senju to Senjirou. 

In boredom, she can’t help but glance around her father’s back at Chiba, who sits tall and elegant in seiza beside Butsuma. From this angle she can’t see her brother, but still, as always, as soon as Hashirama looks, she finds herself unable to look away.

Chiba has always been a beautiful lady, the kind of beauty that the other clan members would often talk about reverently…a beauty that Hashirama had often dreamed about growing up and being herself. Lady Chiba has white blonde hair that she keeps so long it drags on the floor when she sits, with only the very top section of it kept up and out of her eyes by a silver comb and ume blossom kanzashi. She’s wearing a rich black tomesode kimono, the most elaborate and beautiful thing Hashirama has ever seen worn within the clans compound walls. Most of the clan women, like Yano, prefer to wear simple kimono around the compound, sometimes donning monpei pants—like the farmers do—when they are cleaning or training. 

But Chiba is not dressed as a kunoichi. If anything, she's dressed how Hashirama imagines a princess might be. She wonders then how the boys at practice could call Hashirama a princess, when she falls short of Chiba, a true princess, in every way. The tomesode kimono is silken and decorated at the bottom with a crouching white snow leopard, hidden between snow laden tree branches, and two different clan mon are embroidered delicately with silver and white thread. Hashirama recognizes the Senju one, but not the other symbol and assumes it must be the clan Chiba originally came from. The obi holding it all together is even more richly decorated, shining with so much silver embroidery that it looks nearly metallic in the low candlelight. 

It’s…beautiful. For all that it looks heavy and cumbersome, Hashirama can’t help but feel mesmerized by the artistry and the intricacy of the garment, especially when compared to her own rather monochrome practical outfits. She looks back down at her own simple childhood kimono, tied with a string rather than a proper obi; she won’t replace it with an obi until she turns five and has her obitoki-no-go ceremony. Just moments before she’d dreaded the idea of having to wear such bulky formal clothes some day, preferring the freedom of her childhood clothes…but now those same clothes just make her feel small and plain. Out of place. Wrong. Ugly. It’s certainly fine quality clothing, but…it’s not beautiful like Chiba’s kimono. 

Despite watching Yano struggle to put on her own kimono this morning with annoyance, Hashirama lets herself wonder at how she’d look in such clothes. She daydreams then, of wearing delicate pretty combs in her hair, and layering herself with silks and—

“…second born of the main Senju line, and first born of the union of Senju Butsuma and Hogoromo Chiba, long may he live.”

“Long may he live.” The room echoes.

Hashirama nearly squawks in horror as she whips her head away from Chiba’s back to see Elder Shibuma standing before them, holding a scroll in his hands that she’s sure had her brother's name upon it. She wants to slam her forehead into the tatami as she watches him bow and roll up the large scroll in his hands, clearly done with his announcement.

She’d missed the announcement of her own little brother’s name! No matter how beautiful Chiba’s clothing is, how could she be so oblivious as to not notice when elder Shibuma began to read?! 

Ugh, I’m the worst brother that’s ever lived and I’ve only been one for one week! She groans, slapping her own forehead and drawing several eyes to her, including the warning ones of her father and Chiba. 

Or sister? Hashirama scrunches her nose, shaking her head, Ugh, don’t think about that right now…I’ll just get all confused again. What was that other word Yano used? Sibling! I’m the worst sibling!

Desperately Hashirama leans precariously to the side, trying to get a peak at the kanji on the scroll despite knowing even if she did she would hardly be able to read it. Elder Shibuma pays no mind to her silent mental pleas to repeat the name and goes about ritually walking down the left hall, the Hall of Kin, and placing the scroll there. To the right is the Hall of Heir’s that Hashirama know’s her own scroll resides in, alongside her fathers. She can’t help but find it a bit unfair that her little brother’s name can’t sit beside her own…not unless Hashirama died, that is. 

My brother’s name will be put there when I’m no longer heir though, then our names will be right next to each other’s! Hashirama tilts her head, pursing her lips in thought …or will they take my name down once chichi-ue makes me live as a girl? Wait, no, cuz they’ll just think I died, right? They don’t take down the dead’s names—ugh, whatever, this is making my head hurt!

“Would you stop your ridiculous wriggling?” 

The harsh whispered words startle Hashirama into looking at her step mother. Chiba’s face is as placid as a still lake, but her eyes speak a thousand words. Leaning around Butsuma as she is allows Hashirama a peak at the swaddled form of her brother held in Chiba’s arms. She watches with wide eager eyes as the baby squirms, making little cooing noises; atuft of white hair poking out of the dark cloth from the movement.

“You are making a scene of yourself at your brother's naming ceremony.” Chiba hisses, forcing Hashirama to look away from her brother and up at her step mother. Impressively, the woman’s mouth barely even moves as she scolds her. “Have you no shame?”

“...sorry, mama-haha.” Hashirama says with a stealthy bow of her head which seems to satisfy her step mother enough for her face forward and ignore her again. Guiltily she glances towards her father, but he’s staring at the right side of the hall, the Hall of Heirs, where both Butsuma and Hashirama’s names hang beside those who are long dead.

For the first time in her life she wonders at how her father feels about the death of his own father. She never knew her grandfather, but she has vague memories of her grandmother before she passed away only a month before Hashirama turned three.

The thought makes her sad. Being from a shinobi clan like the Senju means death is no new thing to her, not even as young as she is. Second and third cousins, mostly, not anyone she knew very well…but still, they were a normal enough presence in the compound that when they were gone they left a hole. Although she’s only been three for four months, Hashirama has already attended three funerals, and has developed a visceral hatred of them. 

The first had been for Hashirama’s third cousin—Kondoro’s nephew and Touka’s cousin—and yet despite being so close to Touka, Hashirama couldn’t remember their name…only the grief of those around her when he died. The second had been for Touka’s grandmother, Miyo, who Hashirama only knew through fittings for kimono, and the last had been five months ago, for her own paternal grandmother’s funeral. As sad as it was, Hashirama felt more grief over Miyo’s death than her own grandmothers’. 

Touka’s grandmother Miyo might have known she was a girl, Hashirama realizes now, remembering how she’d always let Hashirama play dress up in the girls too big kimono’s. But, she’d never said anything, never given even a hint that she’d thought Hashirama was any different than the other boys in the clan…and she’d always slipped her a little piece of daifuku when Yano wasn’t looking. Of all the funerals she’d been to, Miyu’s had hurt the most…especially since Yano, stalwart unflappable Yano, had cried during the ceremony.

Someday, will Tobirama cry at Hashirama’s funeral? Will he look down the Hall of Heir’s like Butsuma is now?

Hashirama still doesn’t understand as much as she should about her strange situation, but she’s not stupid either. She remembers what her father had said, how he’d told her someday her life as she knew it would end and she’d live only as a girl. However it’s done, it seems no different than death to her young mind.

Hashirama squirms in her seat and guiltily avoids her father’s eyes and his step mother’s glaring for the rest of the hour long ceremony, trying her best to listen in for any mention of her new brother’s name…but it’s tough to parse through what names are already existing family members or those who are already dead. 

Shibu-ma, Hondō-ma, Takano-ma, Butsu-ma, Hashira-ma. The Senju have an annoying tradition of male names that end in ‘ma’ which makes things even more difficult, and unfortunately Hashirama does not succeed in overhearing and parsing out what her new brother’s name is by the end of the ceremony. 

The adults rise as the ceremonial proceedings end, taking new seats at small low tables brought out by Senjirou staff. Hashirama looks longingly over at the table where Yano, Touka, Kondoro and his daughter Kotone sit, but knows better than to head their way; to do such a thing would only disrespect her father. 

Hashirama consoles herself with the fact that at least she’ll be sitting next to Chiba now, and maybe she’ll get a better look at her new little brother’s face…only to be promptly disappointed when her step-mother does not take a seat at the table.

“We will take our leave now.” Chiba says, giving a low bow to Hashirama and her father, “I am still weak from the birth, and I believe it best that my son not be out in this cold for too long.”

Butsuma gives a magnanimous nod, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. Hashirama watches her walk out of the hall with an internal groan.

The adults spend the next hour drinking and talking with each other in that boring adult way where they say a lot but nothing at all, with people approaching their table to take tea with them rather than the other way around. 

“Anija, how fortuitous that you have another son, the Senju are truly blessed with the gift of many heirs…both within the marriage and without.” Her uncle Takanoma says, and though Hashirama knows logically the words are polite they don’t… sound polite. 

“Indeed, I am a lucky man, and an even luckier husband.” Her father says, equally as polite and pointed, “I hope someday you know the joy of marriage as I do, Takanoma…when you are older of course.”

Uncle Takanoma’s mouth pinches at that, making frown lines on his otherwise youthful face. Hashirama is suddenly reminded that he’s not as old as the other adults in the room, despite being quite tall for his age. She doesn’t know how old he is exactly—all the adults just look ‘old’ to her—but she does know he’s way too old to be learning under Norito-sensei, at least old enough to be out in the field, but not old enough to be married. 

“I await the day I come of age eagerly,” Uncle Takanoma says through a mean looking smile, “I can’t wait for the day that I may have my own sons to dote on as you do. ”

“As do I.” Her father says, and smirks. “A son is a blessing to their clan, and we can always use spare heirs.”

Hashirama looks back and forth between them, squinting her eyes. She really doesn’t get adults, always talking in that weird stilted ‘double-talk’ way that only really happens when things are overbearingly formal. 

It’s sooooo boring…the kind of talking which makes Hashirama nearly fall asleep every time…

A hand on her shoulder breaks her from one said doze and she startles back upright to see Kondoro smiling down at her. Her eyes widen and she whips her head around to see if anyone has noticed.

“Don’t worry Hashirama-kun, no one thought anything of it.” He whispers, and she sighs in relief as she finds her father, mother, and uncle all spread about the room serving tea to different elders. “You’re still young enough that it’s to be expected at an event such as this. If your mother was still here she would have left with you for the main house long ago.”

Hashirama’s eyes dart over to Yano, who is petting a sleeping Touka’s head on her lap as she entertains several of the clan elder’s wives. Her chest aches abruptly.

“Are you excited to be a big brother?” Kondoro distracts her with a ruffle of her hair. She smooths it back down, though she needn’t have bothered. It’s more a struggle to get her hair to fall in any other way than flat and straight.

“Ah, yeah!” She says, looking stealthily at him from the corner of her eye. Maybe there’s a way she can get Kondoro to say her brothers name without admitting she hadn’t heard it? She squints, trying to think of a way to lead the conversation in a direction where he might say her brother's name. “My little brother has such a cute name doesn’t he? I think it’s such a, um, super cool one. The best name ever!”

“Mm, yes, my cousin has outdone himself once again.” Kondoro sighs in a way that says he means the opposite, “Sadly, he always has been one to keep with the traditional naming conventions of the Senju clan.”

“Right, right, the tradishonal, um, con-ven-shons.” Hashirama says with a nervous laugh, “Which would be something that I know…because my little brother’s name and it’s super cool and very convenshons .” 

“Conventional, not convenshons .” Kondoro snorts as he blinks curiously at her, before a wicked light seems to come into his eyes. “Hmmm, don't you know why so many of the main Senju line have similar sounding names, Hashirama-kun?”

Hashirama eyes him nervously, but figures this is something safe enough to admit not knowing. She shakes her head.

“Well, every male of the main line of the Senju are named after yokai.” Kondoro whispers, nodding as Hashirama’s eyes widen. 

“They are? What’s mine mean?!”

“Ah, you’re named after a yokai that looks like a giant leg with eyes on its toes. Legend says it goes around kicking at pillars until they collapse, unless the home owner comes out and cuts its toenails.”

“I didn’t know that—wait a foot with toe eyes?! Cut its toenails?! That’s so gross.” Hashirama gapes at him, then jumps at her chance, “then, what’s the yokai my little brother is named after?”

“Oh your brother? He’s named after a cute little cat yokai that’s known to bring good luck when standing between two doors.”

“Whaat, why is mine so much worse?!” Hashirama cries, “How come he gets a cute little cat and I get a FOOT—”

As she’s pouting Kondoro begins to laugh, and she turns to watch as he falls sideways out of his seat, holding his sides. Several of the elder clan members turn their way, but as soon as they see it’s Kondoro they simply roll their eyes and turn back to their conversations. Hashirama’s eyes narrow on her father’s cousin, suspicion rising. Quickly she goes through the names of her ancestors that she knows, including her own, her fathers, and her grandfathers. She doesn’t know all of her kanji, she can’t even spell it yet, but she’s heard her teachers at least talk about what her father’s name means hasn't she?

Butsuma means… She thinks slowly, A room in a home dedicated to a Sagist altar, right?

That’s right. They’re not named after yokai…they’re named after boring house things, like pillars and a prayer room and stuff.

“Kondo-oji-san, you liar!” She huffs poking him in the side, which just makes him laugh harder. “I hate you. I’m never listening to anything you say, ever.”

“I’m sor–I’m sorry–pfft!” He says, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. “You’re just so cute when you’re upset. Plus, I couldn’t help it once I realized you didn’t know your brother’s name, I had to mess with you a little Hachi-chan!”

In the midst of her pouting her brows furrow at the slip of tongue. First he lies to her now he says her name wrong? And not even her name, a nickname. A nickname that only Yano gets to call her too!

“It’s Ha- shi- rama . Not Ha- chi.” She says pointedly and then sticks her tongue out at him. “Also, I don’t know what you’re talking about, I totally know my brother's name!”

He gives her an exaggerated wink, “Mmhm. Sure you do.”

Her face flushes. “I do!”

“Then what is it?” He says, blinking innocently at her.

Hashirama opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again and coughs as she mumbles. “It’s…mhhmh-ama.”

Kondoro leans in, hand cupped around one ear. “Hmm? Sorry I didn’t hear that?”

“I said it’s bmmamumm-ama!” She mumbles louder, looking around wildly for an escape route. Her eyes land on Yano and Touka. 

“Eh, sorry, you were mumbling I didn’t—”

“Oh! Look, it’s Yano-san and Touka-chan! Looks like this is mostly over anyways, so I should go and say hi, okay, bye Kondo-oji-san!”

His annoying laughter echoes behind her as she gets up and makes a beeline for the now rising Touka and Yano, avidly avoiding eye contact with the disapproving stares of the elders, her father, and her uncle Takanoma. They’re a problem for future Hashirama. For now she just needs to leave.

Hashirama makes a jumping grab for Yano’s hand just as Kondoro is way laid by her father, and Hashirama sighs in relief. Safe.

“Ready to go bocchan?” Yano says with a smile, seemingly oblivious to her stress, “I suppose you're still young enough that your father likely won’t mind if you leave early with us.”

“Yes!” Hashirama says, perhaps a bit too loudly, by the glare Touka gives her.

“You’re being imp-roper.” The little girl sniffs, rubbing her red eyes as if she also hadn’t fallen asleep. Hashirama rolls her eyes. 

“Improper, Touka-chan.” Yano corrects her pronunciation gently.

“ Improper.” Touka corrects herself, turning her glare on Hashirama, “You weren’t paying attention during the ceremony. Don’t think I didn’t notice, you missed the cue to bow three times!”

Hashirama looks at her in annoyance. “Of course you did. You notice everything with your creepy eagle eyes and perfect prissy…perfectness.”

Touka narrows her eyes, pointy brow’s furrowing. Hashirama thinks with vague hunger that her eyebrows always look like chopsticks stuck in rice when she frowns like that…her stomach growls. She never had gotten to finish dinner.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment, even if I don’t think you meant it as one.” Touka says, “Not that you even know what ‘compliment’ means.”

“I know what it means!” Hashirama gasps, “It means saying something nice! If anyone wouldn’t know what it meant it’d be you, since you’re so mean!”

“I’d rather be mean than stupid.”  

Hashirama purses her lips, trying to think of a better come back to that other than just sticking her tongue out at her. She fails.

Touka gasps in outrage, “Okaa-san, Hashirama just stuck his tongue out at me–!”

“Children, enough.” Yano says, taking both of their hands so that she can place herself between them. It doesn’t stop Hashirama from leaning around her back to pull her eyelid down and stick her tongue out at Touka though.

“You are so dumb looking when you do that—”

“I’m not dumb looking, you’re dumb looking!” Hashirama says in outrage.

“It’s been a long day, let us all retire to our chambers to sleep.” Yano interrupts with a sigh, pulling them away from one another and down the hill towards the main house. Eventually, Hashirama gives up on riling Touka to sheepishly tug at Yano to get her attention. 

Yano looks down at her with tired eyes that say ‘no more nonsense, please’ and Hashirama smiles bashfully and gestures for her to lean down. 

“Yano-oba-san,” Hashirama whispers in her ear. “Did you…um…happen to hear…y’know…”

Yano sighs deeply as she abruptly stands up, in a way that always makes Hashirama preemptively duck her head and grin apologetically. “You really weren’t paying attention during the ceremony were you?”

“Eeeeh, what, no, I was! I mean I just, I sneezed!” Hashirama instantly protested, sweating nervously, “Elder Shibuma-san was saying his name and then…um…I didn’t hear him cuz I sneezed.”

“Four times?” Yano says slowly. “You sneezed four times, exactly when he said your brother’s name?”

“Is, is it hot out here?” Hashirama squirmed, tugging at the collar of her kimono nervously. “Haha…ha…”

“Tch. It’s winter , idiot.” Is all Touka says, and as soon as Hashirama realizes Yano isn’t going to say more she pouts theatrically, head dropping to hang between her shoulders.

“You’re really not gonna tell me?!” Hashirama says, “It was an accident!”

“Call it a lesson in attention, Hashirama-kun.” Yano says breezily, looking rather happy with herself. “Or perhaps a lesson in subterfuge. Let’s see how long it takes for you to find out his name by yourself, hmm?”

—

Surprisingly, it takes her quite a while to discover her brother’s name. Before that moment Hashirama hadn't noticed how little the people in the clan referred to her or her father as their first names. 

It was always, Oyakata-sama this, Bocchan that, Waka-sama this; never Butsuma-sama or Hashirama-kun . She supposed it makes sense, considering most of the people she interacts with are clan members who swear fealty to her father, and as his heir, her. Only the elders or those who are direct family members can refer to the clan head or his children by their given names. So, that leaves Elder Shibuma, Elder Hondōma, her father, Kondoro and her uncle Takanoma. 

Hashirama would rather set herself on fire than be around the elders for more than the time it takes to bow, uncle Takanoma probably would set her on fire if she asked, and Kondoro already knows and would refuse to tell her since it’s ‘fun to watch her squirm.’

Annoying .

So that leaves her father, to Hashirama’s displeasure. She only ever sees her father when she’s in trouble and at their weekly family dinners…which means waiting an entire week to see him unless she goes out of her way to request an audience. And there’s no way she’s doing that.

So, Hashirama is patient. A week goes by and finally she’s sitting at the family table, eagerly squirming on her cushion as she waits for her step mother and little brother to arrive. Her father sits calmly, glaring only when she taps her fingers too loudly on her tea cup. When the servants bring in their servings of rice, pickled sides and grilled fish, Hashirama is surprised to see there’s only two. It’ll just be her father and her at dinner that night.

“Are mama-haha and my brother not coming?” She says, frowning. Chiba had done her best to keep Hashirama away from her brother this past week, and she’d really been looking forward to seeing him even if he was wrapped up like a pillow.

“No. Chiba is still recovering from the birth, and Tobirama is too young yet to eat real food. It’ll be some time before he no longer nurses.” Butsuma says, and Hashirama frowns in annoyance to hear she won’t be seeing her brother again—

Abruptly Hashirama’s eyes widen, replaying her father’s words back in her mind. He’d said—

Tobirama.

So that’s her brother’s name. The space between two doors?

Success! To think, after a whole week of sleuthing around trying to listen in on random people talking, it was as easy as this! Hashirama thinks with a grin.

Tobirama, Tobirama, Tobirama.

“When can I see him?” She asks eagerly, to which her father actually smiles . Just a small one, but still, it’s enough that Hashirama almost gasps in shock.

“Soon.” He says simply, “Once Chiba has recovered and your brother gains enough strength to be taken outside. Even then, Chiba is considering taking her meals with the boy for some time.”

“But how long is that?” She says quickly, speaking so soon after his sentence ends that she’s almost interrupting him. He gives her a pointed stare and she ducks her head. “I mean, how long will that be, chichi-ue?”

“A few months. Perhaps more.” He says with a frown, “Tadashi says the boy was born too early, but that he should gain his strength with time. He was against taking him out for the naming ceremony, but I insisted…seems the cold weather weakend both his and Chiba’s health.”

Months?! No. No way that’s way too long!

Hashirama nods, but her mind is already leagues away, making plans that she knows Yano won’t approve of. By the end of dinner she’s already got a half baked plan to sneak out under Yano’s nose and into the West wing where Chiba and her brother, Tobirama are.

Unfortunately, Yano is evil and has eyes in the back of her head.

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

Guiltily, Hashirama looks over her shoulder with a grimace. “To the…bathroom?”

“Oh?” Yano says flatly. “You went before bed, and now you need to go again so soon?”

“I had a lot of water.” Hashirama says, equally flatly.

Yano blinks slowly. “No.”

“Yanooooooo–”

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Trying to sneak out so late at night…” Yano grabs Hashirama by the back of her sleeping clothes, dragging her back into her room despite her whining protests. “Shh. You’ll wake Touka-chan!”

“You’re being louder than me!”

“Go. To. Bed.”

Hashirama huffs, throwing herself dramatically on her futon, her admittedly pathetic plan foiled. “...but I wanna see him. Chiba is keeping him away from me on purpose, I swear!”

Yano sighs, pulling the bed covers over Hashirama gently. “You will. When he’s stronger. Didn’t your father say Okugata-sama would bring your brother to the weekly dinner once he was strong enough?”

“Yeah, in a few months! That’s so far awaaaay~”

Yano’s rough hand pats her cheek, “I know. I know…but it’s better to wait until Tobirama-kun is healthy and strong than to rush to see him and get him sick, right?”

That pulls Hashirama up short, freezing her in horror. “I could get him…sick?”

Yano nods gravely, “Babies are fragile, Hachi-chan, and being outside around strangers can get them sick. If my father says he should stay in Okugata-sama’s rooms for now, then that’s the safest place for him.”

“But…I’m not a stranger…” Hashirama mutters tearfully. “I’m his brother…or, or sister or whatever…”

Yano huffs, and presses a gentle kiss to her brow, “Just wait. You’ll see him in good time.”

But Hashirama doesn’t see her brother in good time.

In fact, even once Chiba begins to join her and her father for their semi-weekly family dinners, she doesn’t bring Tobirama to any of them. She says that he’s still too fragile, and that it’s better to be careful while he’s so young and frail. Surprisingly, Hashirama’s father agrees, although he at least does not look happy about it. Butsuma even cancels a few of their family dinners, leaving Hashirama to eat with Yano and Touka, which wouldn’t be so terrible if she hadn’t heard from the maids that her father was taking a private dinner with Chiba and Tobirama in their rooms.

Months go by and still Hashirama hasn’t officially met her new younger brother up close and personal. Sometimes she sees Chiba walking about outside with Tobirama on her back, but as soon as Hashirama tries to approach Chiba will make some excuse and disappear into her rooms in the West wing. If they run into each other in the halls of the main house, Chiba will outright turn around and head in the opposite direction. It’s clear to anyone with eyes that what used to be chilly disregard for Hashirama has turned into outright hatred.

By the time Tobirama is four mounths old, Hashirama has about had it. Four months she’s had a little brother, and she doesn’t even know what he looks like!

She hates me. Hashirama thinks about her step-mother, not for the first time. It’s bothered her before, but never like this. Now it’s not just idle disregard, but actively keeping her own family from her! Tobirama is her brother, and Hashirama deserves to see him up close and look into his eyes and tell him she’s his big brother-sister and she’s gonna protect him and love him forever and be the best brother-sister ever!

She’s gotten better at sneaking over the past four months, and certainly better at planning. This time Yano isn’t going to catch her!

Chapter Text

Hashirama waits for wash day to enact her plan, after dinner when the maids have changed out all the bed clothes. She’s heading back to the east wing from a weekly dinner with only her father for company, when she begins.

Stage one: reconnaissance.

On her way back to the east wing where she, Yano, and Touka live, Hashirama begins scoping out the staff in the main house for the night. She makes a quick stop in the kitchens to swipe some salted herring while the cook isn’t looking and is rather proud she isn’t noticed. It must mean she’s getting better at stealth games, no matter what Norito-sensei and the other boys say!

Next she snoops around the courtyard until she finds the compound's local stray cat, fondly named Shibō-chan for his rotund belly and keenness for food. 

“Pspspspsps!” She says, waving the fish around. Shibō’s pupils immediately dilate as they hone in on the fish and Hashirama giggles. It’s easy work to lure the cat back the east wing and, with only a cursory check to make sure Yano and Touka are in their adjoining rooms rather than Hashirama's, she manages to get Shibō-chan into her own room. 

The coast is clear, time for the next stage.

Stage Two: Sabotage!

Quickly Hashirama stuffs the fish into her futon, Shibō-chan pouncing on it with a little meow. She waits a long moment to hear the wet sounds of the cat munching on the fish before she slams the shoji between their rooms open with a gasp.

“Yano-san! Shibō-chan got in again!”

“What? Oh that damned cat!” Yano says, jumping up from where she’d been laying out Touka’s futon. “Where is he—oh no. Is that…we just did the laundry!”

“Yup. He’s eating fish. In my futon. ” Hashirama says with a mou of disgust. “Please don’t tell me I have to sleep in that.”

“Of course not.” She sighs, pinching her nose. “Let me just bring this dirty one to the laundry room and I’ll get you a new one–”

Next stage: Deceive.

“I can do it!” Hashirama interjects. “It’s late, and you look tired. I know where the laundry room is from last time, so I-I can do it!”

Yano looks at her slowly, a spark of suspicion rising in her eyes before weariness seems to outweigh it. She huffs, rolling her shoulder with a little grimace as she nods. “Alright, I suppose that’s fine. Be quick about it though. It really is late, and you have early practice tomorrow.”

Hashirama internally crows with success, but manages to keep her external expression neutral enough that Yano doesn’t find it odd. She turns and scoops Shibō on her way out, who eagerly runs off with the remnants of his fish once Hashirama sets him down outside. Rolling up the futon is a bit more cumbersome than she imagined, needing to drag it more than hold it, but she’s been training with far heavier things for a few months now since Norito-sensei has started teaching them to circulate their chakra! It apparently makes them grow and big and strong faster, which Hashirama thinks must be why she’s already taller than Touka despite being four months younger than the girl.

By the time she gets the futon to the laundry the sun has fully set, and the stars are just beginning to brighten in the sky. The maids have all gone to sleep so Hashirama just drops the soiled futon off in the dirty laundry section but doesn’t bother grabbing a clean one; she’ll do that on her way back, if she isn’t caught first. Then, after ensuring the coast is still clear of maids, Hashirama creeps through the courtyard heading to the west gate, through its garden, and finally onto the engawa of the west wing. There, Hashirama stops, takes a deep breath to steady herself and then slaps her cheeks. She’s half-way there.

Stage Three: Infiltrate.

Now comes the hard part…the next stage requires reconnaissance she’d failed to get; namely whether Tobirama is in the same room as Chiba. Chiba hadn’t come to their family dinner that night, her father saying she was handling some meeting with the head ladies of the Senju and Senjirou. Hashirama didn’t quite understand it all, but she knows that Yano is one of said head ladies, having taken control of garment production and fittings from her mother-in-law upon her death. Yan had a meeting with her earlier in the day to talk about the clan’s kimono production though, so Chiba must be meeting with the ladies in charge of something else, maybe food or weapon production? Either way, Hashirama is at least sure she won’t be in her rooms right now, although she has no idea when she’ll be back or who is watching over her brother right now…

Hashirama hesitates as she stares down the shadowed hallway leading to Chiba and Torirama’s rooms. She swallows thickly as she tries to convince her feet to move. If Hashirama is caught, she might get the worst smacking of her life…or worse. A shiver of fear runs down her spine but she braces herself. 

All of this will be worth it to see her cute little brother's face without Chiba there to interfere!

Using every ounce of training she’s been taught by Norito-sensei, Hashirama slowly and quietly tiptoes down the engawa, throwing out every sense she has in the hopes that if anyone is here she’ll sense anyone before they sense her. Just last week Norito-sensei had told them about the rare shinobi that had something others didn’t, a sixth sense; sensor-nin could feel chakra in the same way that other people could hear footsteps or smell someone’s perfume. 

Unfortunately, during Norito-sensei’s tests for them Hashirama had failed to sense his chakra, unlike Madoma. The fact that bully had managed to do something she couldn’t had made it one of the worst days of Hashirama’s life, second only to that time she’d accidentally set fire to a tree while practicing how to light a fire without chakra. Norito-sensei had said it was important to know how to do it without jutsu, in case they’re ever out in the field and run out of chakra…but Hashirama had turned out to be a little too good at it, and sparks had gone flying everywhere, including into the leaves of a nearby tree. Thankfully Norito-sensei had stopped the fire before it could progress too far, but the fact remained that the tree was half burnt and dying now. 

The feeling of that tree burning had made Hashirama cry. Such a beautiful tree and she’d killed it.

But, that day had given her one thing; the understanding that although Hashirama wasn’t a sensor-nin in the usual way, she did have some ability to sense chakra…just turns out that it’s the chakra of trees and plants and things rather than people.

It’d been a revelation born of listening to the tree scream as each of it’s leaves were burnt to a crisp by the embers of Hashirama’s flint sparks. The sound of silence, like a black hole of quiet, where there’d once been the sounds of the massive living oak tree, made Hashirama realize the fact she’d been hearing anything at all.

The trees hummed with energy, leaves and grass whispered even when they were still, and even the air around her buzzed. It wasn’t the sort of noise that happened during Senju festivals or celebrations, not the sort of thing Hashirama ‘heard’ with her ears, but rather a sort of feeling deep in her brain. Like an itch that couldn’t be scratched, or a scent that was more memory than actual smell. It’s hard to describe, really, but then Hashirama had also never tried to explain it to someone. Norito-sensei said everyone sensed chakra differently, so Hashirama must just have an extra unique way to sense it! Obviously she couldn’t sense people, but she could sense the absence of nature around them.

She’s never really tried it of course, but now is the perfect chance to put her ‘chakra-sensing’ to the test! So, she stops and focuses on the energy around her. She feels the air buzz, interspersed by the feeling of ‘quiet’ that is the dead wood that makes up the beams and shoji screens of their house. If she keeps her eyes closed for long enough the world begins to take shape in her mind, everything inverted; it’s like knowing what an object is by looking at its shadow. 

She slowly steps closer, her range still quite small, until she feels the absence of space that are two figures, separating only by a single sliding door. Chiba’s rooms must have an adjoining room for her ladies-maid, like how Hashirama’s room is adjoining Yano and Touka’s. Hashirama knows instantly that her brother is in the left room by how tiny the figure is, and needs to contain a squeal of excitement. The other figure, laying down in the room adjacent to the one containing her brother, is that of an adult, most likely Chiba’s ladies-maid who is always at her side. Is it late enough that the woman might actually be sleeping? She has been laying down without moving for awhile…Should Hashirama wait in hiding until she’s sure she’s asleep? But surely if she waits too long then Chiba will return and catch her…

No, she can’t afford to wait. She needs to act now and take a chance.

Nodding to herself Hashirama slowly moves over to the left room and slowly pulls the shoji door open just far enough to peak inside. The light of the full moon shining from the open engawa behind her casts a stripe of blue light into the room, and as her eyes adjust Hashirama notes that the door to the adjoining room is open. There in the other room she can see a dark haired figure laying on a futon, her back to the open door. Chiba is nowhere to be seen, thankfully.

Secure in the knowledge that she hasn’t been caught quite yet, Hashirama turns her eye towards the room in front of her…and the tiny squirming baby sitting up and staring right at Hashirama. She nearly squeaks in surprise as they make eye contact, slapping a hand over her mouth to hide her gasp of excitement.

Tobirama, her little brother, has a tuft of white hair to match his mother, with pale skin and bright red intelligent eyes. He’s the cutest thing that Hashirama has ever seen and she feels a stab of pride that he’s hardly six months old and already sitting up and trying to crawl! She doesn’t know much about babies but that’s gotta be a record. Her brother couldn’t be anything but amazing after all.

Slowly, unable to help herself, Hashirama slides the engawa door open, leaving it open so that the moon can better light the place, although she casts a worried look at the wetnurse when the moonlight hits her back. She takes a quiet step into the room, kneeling down in front of Tobirama, who is making little inquisitive gurgles and grabby motions at her. It brings tears of cuteness to her eyes and she reaches out and pets the soft tuft of hair on his head, marveling that it feels like a downy cloud under her hand.

The sound of movement to her right has Hashirama freezing, and she takes a nervous glance towards the adjoining room. The maid has turned over in her bed and is facing them, but thankfully Hashirama notes her eyes are still shut and her breathing steady. 

She turns back to her brother when his tiny hand slaps at her cheek, prompting Hashirama to snort in surprise. He’s so tiny. Was she really this small once? Her brother babbles nonsense at her as she pulls towards her into a hug. His hands grab at her hair and tug, but the pain doesn’t stop her from feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. 

He’s perfect.

Hashirama has always felt a sort of loneliness when she watched the other boys her age interact with their brothers, some of them training with them and others picking them up from practice. She’d often wished, on lonely nights alone in her futon, that she too could have a sibling that looked at her like they did; with love and admiration. Touka was a sort of sibling to her, but not one that Hashirama could ever call as such in public. Despite living together and growing up together under the same woman’s care, there was always a sort of…distance between them. Hashirama didn’t know why it existed, and doubted it was purposeful on Touka’s part, but it existed all the same. Perhaps it was the secrets between them, or the fact Touka was so serious, or the difference in their status…the last one seemed the most likely to Hashirama, despite not understanding why it seemed to matter so much to everyone. Yano and Touka both always acted so differently around Hashirama when they were alone versus around other people in the clan.

After a long moment of just admiring her cute little brother and holding him in her arms, Hashirama sighs as she realizes she has to leave before she’s noticed. She wishes she could say something to her brother before she leaves, introduce herself maybe, or tell him she’ll always protect him. But she can’t, not without truly blowing her cover. So far she’s been lucky, but there’s no telling how long that will last.

Time for the final stage of her plan. 

Stage Four: Escape.

Just as she goes to set her brother down some instinct deep inside her makes her freeze. She looks down, holding Tobirama closer as he squirms, noticing the sudden lengthening of the shadow cast by the moonlight. There’s someone behind her.

But she notices too late, and suddenly she feels the prick of something sharp against her neck as she gasps and a hand from behind her pushes Tobirama out of her arms and onto the futon in front of her. Her brother cries in shock and pain, and Hashirma looks down as much as she can, finding a knife made of bone being held against her throat. 

She freezes. This isn’t training with Norito-sensei and his wooden kunai, this is a real weapon being held against her neck, something that could actually kill her, and it makes her break out in a cold sweat of fear. Her eyes twitch to the side without moving her head, and her stomach drops as she sees an empty bed where the maid once was. 

“I–I can explain–” Hashirama tries to say but squeaks as the knife digs harder into her throat.

“Be quiet, Okugata-sama will deal with you.” The maid holding her bone-knife at her throat does something strange as Hashirama feels the air buzz in strange spikes around her body. She’s felt the same thing happen when Norito-sensei showed them how to ‘spike’ their chakra to alert sensor-nin nearby to danger. “She’ll be here soon.”

Dread sits heavy in Hashirama’s stomach and she looks down at her brother. Tobirama stares up at her from the futon with curious eyes, still babbling, entirely unaware that his only sister is being held at knifepoint. Everytime Hashirama tries to speak the maid digs the bone-knife deeper into her throat, until a small trickle of blood begins to drip down into the collar of her kimono. She doesn’t try to speak again after that, sitting there as patiently as she can as she begins to shake.

Norito-sensei always says a good shinobi should always keep their composure. She must not be a very good shinobi yet though, since just a few minutes of tense silence with a knife at her throat is enough to have Hashirama crying and sniffling. It’s even more embarrassing considering she’s doing it in front of her baby brother, who stares up at her with confused innocent eyes.

Finally, as her breath begins to get shorter and shorter with panic, Hashirama hears the stampede of feet on the wooden floors of the engawa outside. A moment later Chiba appears, looking more disheveled than Hashirama has ever seen her, with her hair falling out of its loose but atop her head and her kimono hiked up around her knees to allow her ease of faster movement.

“ You. What are you doing here?” Chiba hisses, adjusting her robes and hair so fast Hashirama almost misses it. In a blink she’s gone from rumpled to perfectly presentable, but her eyes are still wild as they move from Hashirama to a still crying Tobirama. She moves forward and grabs Hashirama by her short black hair, only just grown out enough to cover her forehead and ears, and pulls her from the maids arms. Hashirama gives a cry of shock at the sudden pain, the noise causing Tobirama to start crying harder and trying to crawl towards her as she’s dragged from the room. 

“Mama-haha, s-stop–” Hashiram cries, her feet kicking at the wood of the engawa and her hands scrabbling at her stepmother's iron-clad grip. She watches with teary eyes as the shoji to the room slams shut on her brother’s distressed face.

“Not even four and already plotting the death of your brother to secure your place?” Chiba spits out, her voice wavering, “Like father like son I suppose.”

Hashirama’s brows furrow in shock and confusion as she understands just what her stepmother is saying, “Wha–No! Why would I, I’d never–I just–”

“Save your excuses!” She says, finally pulling Hashirama up to her feet and instead grabbing her wrists and wrenching her forward with them. Hashirama stumbles unsteadily as they move swiftly down the engawa towards the central wing–towards where her father’s office is. Dread tightens her chest.

“We’ll see what your father thinks of this.” Chiba mutters, “Entering my rooms without permission, hurting your own brother–”

“S-stop, that wasn’t me, that was the–!” Hashirama tries to explain how the maid had pushed Tobirama not her, but both her explanation and her struggling are fruitless. Not even in practice had Norito-sensei or the other boys made her feel as helpless as she does now. Finally she gives up and her stepmother half-drags half-pushes her down to the Central wing where her father keeps his receiving rooms.

Hashirama knew her stepmother didn’t like her, even knew that if she got caught she’d be in trouble, but to think she’d try and hurt her brother? She didn’t realize Chiba hated her that much, nor thought so badly about her. “Please, mama-haha, why are you doing this—?!”

“I would also like to know the answer to that.” 

Hashirama looks up from her stumbling feet with wide teary eyes to see Yano standing there on the engawa, blocking their path forward with flinty eyes. Her chest heaves a relieved breath; never has she seen a more beautiful sight. 

“Move out of the way Yano. This is none of your business.” Chiba says, standing taller as she looks down on Yano from her superior height.

“Hashirama is my charge.” Yano says softly, bowing her head but keeping her dark eyes on Chiba with a look so sharp Hashirama thinks it might actually cut. “Oyakata-sama gave me leave to interfere in matters involving his heir—”

“I believe he also tasked you in keeping control of the boy as well, did he not?” Chiba says with a sniff as she attempts to go around Yano. “Seems like you’ve failed in that duty, since he’s here and not in his rooms where he belongs.”

“I apologize for that, Okugata-sama.” Yano says, moving back in front of her, purposefully blocking her again but in a way that seems subservient rather than antagonistic. “I’m sure you’re tired, so please allow me to take bocchan back to his wing so that you may—”

“What I am tired of is this trouble maker constantly being where he shouldn’t be. I believe it’s time for my husband to deal with him—” Chiba says through clenched teeth.

“Such a matter as this is far too small to bring to Oyakata-sama’s attention.” Yano says with a practiced smile. “We needn’t bother him. The boy simply wished to see his brother, it is not so unusual is it? Especially as I’ve heard you’ve purposefully been keeping the boy out of the public eye.”

“Tobirama was born sickly, I’ve been keeping him safe until he’s stronger–”

“Forgive me, Okugata-sama, but the child is nearly six months old now,” Yano interrupts, bowing her head faux apologetically, “Even Oyakata-sama has begun to question your isolation.”

Chiba’s grib tightens on Hashirama’s wrist enough to make her wince.

“You all think I’m a fool, don’t you? You and all the other clan ladies, looking at me in our meetings with your pitying eyes.” Chiba laughs bitterly, and Hashirama feels her iron grib shaking on her wrist. “I’ve heard stories of the Senju, of how my husband gained his place as clan head. Do you all think I’m powerless? Just humoring my place here as head lady of this clan?” 

Yano has begun to look vaguely nervous now, her eyes jumping from Chiba to Hashirama. “No, Okugata-sama, the ladies of our clan all respect you quite a lot–”

“Lies!” Chiba shouts, startling Hashirama into yelping. She’s never heard her stepmother speak above a gentle whisper before, never seen her be so… fearful. “I may not be the mother of my husband’s heir, but I have enough power here to protect my own son! I will not allow my Tobirama become another child lost to the machinations of clan politics—”

“Okugata-sama!” Yano interrupts harshly, loud enough that it seems to startle Chiba as she steps closer. “I should think you would be above such baseless rumors. I don’t think that Oyakata-sama would take kindly to hearing that you are not.”

“That’s–!” Chiba falters, her grip loosening.

Yano takes another step forward, nearly within touching distance now. Hashirama looks up at her, but finds her face unreadable. She looks down only briefly to meet Hashirama’s eyes, her gaze narrowing in on the trickle of blood on her neck with a twitch of a frown. 

“To think, Oyakata-sama’s own wife and head lady of this clan, believes the whispers of those that wish to depose him…so much so as to put a knife to the throat of his heir.” Yano leans forward, so close now that she’s whispering into Chiba’s ear. “Just like his own step mother did to him.”

Chiba freezes, and as Hashirama looks up she can see her shoulders begin to tremble. Taking the moment of distraction, Hashirama pulls her wrists free of Chiba’s now slack grip and runs behind Yano.

“I can’t imagine how he’d react to this incident…” Hashirama peeks out from behind Yano’s kimono, seeing her reach out and grasp Chiba’s shoulders in an almost comforting way. “But, I think we can resolve this without involving Oyakata-sama at all…don’t you?”

There's a long tense silence, and Hashirama hides herself further in Yano’s kimono. She struggles not to break the quiet with a groan of pain as her hand goes to her stinging neck.

“Perhaps...perhaps you’re right” Chiba whispers hoarsely, “I’m…quite tired, and like you said, this isn’t worth bothering my husband for. I’m sure this won’t happen again, isn’t that right Yano?”

“Of course, Okugata-sama, I’ll ensure bocchan won’t bother you again.” Yano takes a step back, her hand going to Hashirama’s shoulder as she pushes her further behind her. “I’m glad we could come to an understanding. Come now, Hashirama, let’s get you to bed.” 

Yano keeps one hand on her shoulder as she turns to put her infront of her, pushing her out into the courtyard and back to the East wing. Despite the relief she feels to be going back to the safety of her room, Hashirama can’t help but looking back over her shoulder to see Chiba still standing there, looking small and defeated. She accidentally makes the mistake of meeting her tearful eyes; eyes full of rage and helplessness.

Hashirama wimpers what is supposed to be an apology, but Yano simply turns her head back forward and pushes her faster through the courtyard. They hurry back to the east wing in silence, stopping only to grab the discarded clean futon in the laundry. Yano does not speak until they’re enclosed once more in their quarters. Touka opens the adjoining shoji and peeks inside.

“Touka! Go back to sleep. ” Yano says so harshly that Touka yelps as she closes the shoji.

“Yano-san,” Hashirama starts carefully, looking nervously up to the tense set of Yano’s jaw. “I’m sorry, I swear I only wanted to–”

Hashirama gasps as Yano’s palm strikes her face. 

She holds her cheek, staring up with wide hurt eyes at Yano. She expects anger there, she expects the usual stern no-nonsense look of her maternal figure; what she sees is instead fear . Hashirama’s eyes fill with tears to mirror the ones in Yano’s.

“You scared me half to death!” Yano's voice cracks, tears falling and streaming down her face. “You leave, you do not return, I go to find you—worried sick— and I see you there in Chiba’s rooms with a knife at your throat! You’re lucky she decided to just take you to your father rather than do worse! ”

Surprise fills Hashirama as she realizes that Yano must have been watching her for a while before she showed herself. She hadn’t noticed her at all, and clearly Chiba nor her maid had either. “I–I’m sorry–”

Suddenly she’s engulfed in Yano’s arms, and the whiplash from a slap to a hug has Hashirama reeling.

“Don’t you ever do that again. You hear me?” Yano sniffles, “Sneaking into the west wing…into the den of a dangerous foreign kunoichi…you foolish, foolish girl, you have no idea the danger you just put yourself in… danger I almost couldn’t protect you from. ”

Hashirama flinches as Yano calls her a girl, unused to it even as she’s begun to think of herself as one in her own mind. Her arms come up hesitantly around Yano as she presses her sensitive cheek to her chest.

“I’m sorry.” Hashirama says again. “I thought I could just go in and see Tobirama real quick and then go.”

Yano holds her tighter, arms shaking. “You’re not even four yet. You’re so young, how could you think you could sneak past an adult kunoichi without her noticing? Such foolish bravery will get you killed someday!”

“It wasn’t…bravery. I could sense it was just the maid there at first,” Hashirama murmurs, “and I didn’t know she was a kunoichi–”

Yano pulls back, looking at her curiously as she sniffles. “What do you mean sense?”

Hashirama looks to the side shrugging. “I don’t know, I could just…feel she was in there, sleeping. But I swear I thought she was just a maid!”

Yano wipes her face with one hand, sighing, “There are ways to dampen one's chakra, to make it feel like a non-shinobi’s. It’s one of the few arts that kunoichi are naturally better at than shinobi; and as kunoichi of the Hatake clan, who excel at stealth and tracking, both Chiba and her maid Lin are better than most.” 

Hashirama doesn’t bother interrupting and telling her that she hadn’t sensed her chakra, but rather just the absence of air where her body disrupted it. It didn’t seem the time for semantics while Yano was still actively trying not to cry. 

“I…I didn’t think she’d do that.” Hashirama whispers, hand going to her neck. It’s stopped bleeding and scabbed over, but it still stings. “I thought I’d just get yelled at, not…”

“Listen to me, Hashirama.” Yano says firmly, tilting Hashirama’s chin so she looks directly at her. “If there’s any lesson you learn from tonight, it is never to underestimate a kunoichi. We are often underestimated exactly because we are women. Men see what they wish to see; kindness, a need for something soft and innocent in a world that is so often harsh and bloody…Kunoichi know this, see it, and use it to their advantage, just as Lin took advantage of your assumptions that she was a simple sleeping maid, of little danger.”

“I’m sorry.” Hashirama apologizes for the third time. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

Yano’s eyes drift from the wound on her neck to Hashirama’s cheek, and whatever anger is left in her drains as her expression crumples. She reaches out to touch her, but Hashirama flinches, and regrets it for the pain that lights across Yano’s face.

“No, I’m sorry.” Yano whispers as she pulls further away from Hashirama. “I’m so sorry, Hachi-chan, I shouldn’t have struck you. I was just so scared…but that’s no excuse–”

“It’s okay.” Hashirama says quickly, pulling her closer as she tries to move away. “Don’t—Don’t go.”

Instantly Yano pulls her close again, kissing her cheek. “I’m sorry.” She says again. 

The sound of tiny footsteps and the shhk of the shoji door opening are the only warning Hashirama and Yano get before Touka barrels into them both.

“Oh, Touka-chan, I’m sorry to you too. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. ” Yano breathes, “I’m just like my mother…I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Hashirama doesn’t know what that means, or why she sounds so upset about it, but if it’s bad to be just like her mother then Yano must be wrong; because Yano is good. Yano is everything a mom should be. She doesn’t know what to say to fix this, so instead she just hugs her closer, her arms now encircling Touka too. 

Over Yano’s shaking shoulders Hashirama makes eye contact with Touka. For once the urge to make a face at the serious girl does not come. Instead, she reaches out and links their pink fingers against Yano’s back, and Touka smiles hesitantly. For the first time, she feels them close that unnamed distance between them that’s always existed. Hashirama may not be able to see her brother whenever she wants, but…she still has Touka.

For the moment, engulfed in the love the mother she always wanted and the beginnings of what could be sisterhood, Hashirama can forget about the hatred and fear in her step mother’s eyes. But only for a moment.

Chapter Text

The night of the Chiba incident, when it’s more morning than night and the full moon has begun to switch places with the sun, Hashirama lays awake thinking. Yano and Touka are draped around her, the first time she’s slept with two people in her bed. Touka sprawls in her sleep. It’s cute when she’s not flailing an elbow into Hashirama’s eye.

“Okaa-san.” Hashirama whispers into the early morning silence, feeling the word spread like honey in her chest. She’s only ever said it once before, and it still feels strange on her tongue. If Yano was really Hashirama’s mother, if she’d been the one to marry Butsuma, she knows she’d call her haha-ue rather than okaa-san; it somehow feels all the better to use the more common, familiar, form of address for mother, like Touka does.

Yano’s hand stops twirling a strand of her short hair around her finger, clearly just as awake as Hashirama is despite her eyes being closed. 

“Okaa-san, you called me something last night.” Hashirama continues, “Something you’ve called me before…and so has Kondo-san.”

“Did he?” She whispers back. “What did he call you?”

“Mm.” Hashirama snuggles against her chest, listening to Touka’s snores against her back. “Hachi-chan.”

Once was a coincidence, a mistake, but twice though, and a third time from a different person too? Hashirama is a smart enough girl to notice when something is a pattern.

Yano breathes out deeply into Hashirama’s hair, ruffling it in a ticklish way that has her squirming. “Ah. Yes. Hachi-chan…Hachimitsu. It’s…the name you were given at birth.”

“But my name is Hashirama?”

“Hashirama is the name your father gave you, his heir and son.” Yano whispers slowly, “Hachimitsu is the name your mother gave you, her daughter.”

“Oh.” Hashirama says, mulling that over. She knows what it means, and it’s nothing like the traditional naming conventions of the Senju clan. It’s not an architectural element like they do for the boys, nor a flower like they do for the girls. 

It means honey. It’s sweet. 

Hashirama’s not sure it suits her. 

“...what was she like?” She says softly, “My…real mother, I mean.”

It feels wrong to call this woman Hashirama doesn’t even know her mother, not when she’s only just tentatively found one in Yano, but she wants to know about her. Everyone always seems to intent on avoiding talking about her father’s first wife, especially when Chiba is around. All Hashirama knows of the woman who gave birth to her is that she was an Uzumaki, the daughter of the clan head’s brother. On her birthdays Hashirama receives letters of well wishes from the Uzumaki clan head her his brother, her grandfather, they both seem kind if a bit formal and distant.

“Uzumaki Mino was…well, I didn’t know her well.” Yano says, “I’d only just joined the main family through marriage when she joined us here, and I was not yet the head lady of our clan’s kimono production at the time, so we had little reason to interact. But she was kind to me, when we crossed paths.”

“Was she a kunoichi too?”

“Yes. She was a seal master of her clan, as most of the women in the Uzumaki are.” Yano says, “Much of the seals in this very compound were created by her. Like the one there, on the beam above your bed; it’s meant to keep all sound within this room silent to those outside it.”

Hashirama—not yet Hachimitsu, she’s only just started thinking of herself as a she, she’s not ready to think of herself by an entirely different name, if she ever is—smiles as she turns her head to look up at the beam. She’s never even noticed it before Yano pointed it out, and it warms her somehow to know she’s had a piece of her mother with her every night. 

To think she’s been surrounded by little pieces of her birth mother all her life, and not even realized it. Each time Yano pressed a thimble of chakra to a seal to light a room, or activated the seals in their bathing rooms to heat the water, or even activated the tiny seals on her training clothes to keep them from tearing or soiling as easily.

“You were a kunoichi too.” Hashirama says, “What were you like?” 

Yano chuckles, but it’s not a happy sound. “I was much like Chiba and Lin I suppose…”

Hashirama frowns at that, “...Mean?”

“To my enemies, yes. But no, I meant...I excelled at seeming as harmless as a fly, while being the knife that ended their lives when they turned their back.” Yano whispers with distant eyes, “I was…a bread knife, I suppose.”

“A bread knife?” Hashirama pouts a bit, disappointed. “That doesn’t seem very dangerous.”

“Don’t be foolish.” Yano tuts with a breathy laugh, “The weapon that is seen as harmless is the one that is the most dangerous; don’t ever forget that.”

Hashirama is not unused to such talk of death, but it still makes her sad to think of. Still, to try and lighten the mood she pulls back and gives Yano a look, “I don’t know, your angry face doesn’t seem so harmless.”

Instead of making Yano laugh at the gentle teasing it only makes her face more grave, her hand going to Hashirama’s cheek with despairing eyes.

“I won’t do that again.” She whispers. “You don’t need to be afraid of me. I promise I’ll never hurt you again. I won’t become my mother.”

Hashirama leans into her touch, “‘m not afraid of you kaa-san. Promise.”

Yano leans forward to press a kiss to Hashirama’s forehead again. “You trust so easily…you should not be so quick to forgive those that hurt you. This world will only see it as a weakness to take advantage of.”

“Tha’s okay.” Hashirama says as her eyes drift closed, sleep finally claiming her. “If they do I’ll jus…forgive the world too.”

“Oh Hachi-chan…” She hears Yano whisper, “I dread the day you learn not everyone can be forgiven.”

–

If Hashirama’s relationship with her step mother was chilly before, over the next four years it freezes solid. Every dinner feels like walking through a minefield, and every time they meet eyes Hashirama feels like she has a bone knife to her throat once more. She does get to see Tobirama alone again for a long, long time; so long in fact that Hashirama gains another brother and has a third on the way. 

Hashirama had actually gotten to hold Kawarama not long after he was born, something that she’d never gotten the chance to do with Tobirama. It likely only was allowed because Chiba gave birth during their weekly dinner, so Hashirama was with her father when he was called in to see his new son. Her relationship with her father might be tumultuous at best, but at the very least she’s forever grateful that he’d insisted on her joining him in greeting her new brother, even handing him over to her to hold. 

Kawarama looks more like their father than Chiba’s first born does; his newborn blue eyes quickly fading and darkening to match Hashirama’s own black ones, his hair a tuft of light brown, and his skin, although a far cry from tan, is nowhere near the paper-white of Tobiramas’. Hashirama loves him just as quickly as she did Tobirama, and wishes more than anything Chiba would let her play with him outside their weekly dinners. He’s coming up on two years old now, and is a very curious and energetic child, in contrast to Tobirama’s more serious and solemn personality. 

Even as a baby Tobirama was calm and intelligent, and that doesn’t change as he gets older. By the time he’s turned three he’s leagues ahead of where Hashirama was with more intellectual pursuits, although thankfully in the physical aspects he lags behind enough that Norito-sensei doesn’t push to have him moved into the older boys classes. While Hashirama would love the opportunity to train with his younger brother every day, he doesn’t like the idea that doing so would put Tobirama one step closer to the field, and therefore actual danger.

Tobirama turns four when Chiba finally deems him old enough to walk to training without her, likely due to the fact that this most recent pregnancy has taken a toll on her. The only times that Hashirama sees her these days are at their weekly dinners and a few of the meetings that Yano has let her sit in on for kimono fittings. Either way, Hashirama is grateful for her absence, since it means he gets to walk his little brother to training every morning. Although, watching her waddle around with a grimace on her face, Hashirama sympathizes with Chiba; she wouldn’t want to get out of bed either if she had to walk like that.

Although whatever time Hashirama gains with Tobirama now that he’s walking to training alone, she loses with Kawarama, since Chiba keeps him close to her at all times. As the boy is not yet three she is well within her rights to keep him within the west wing, which means Hashirama only sees her newest brother at weekly dinners.

“Kawa-kun!” Hashirama squeals as she walks into the room where they always take their weekly family dinners. The table is set already and Chiba is leaning back and looking pained as her maid Lin pours her some tea, Kawarama toddling around the room unimpeded. Tobirama watches calmly from his place at Chiba’s side, stiff with perfect posture as always. 

“Hashi-kun!” Kawarama says with a delighted laugh, running towards her. Hashirama catches him just as he’s about to fall, tripping over his own feet.

“Look at you go!” Hashirama crows as she grabs her youngest brother under his arms and swings him about. “You’ll be running around Norito-sensei’s training grounds in no time!”

“Training!” Kawarama says with an eager giggle, “Like Hashi and Tobi-nii! ’m faster though!”

“The fastest!” Hashirama agrees with a pinch of Kawarama’s cheek, making the boy giggle. 

“Indeed, I can hardly keep up with the boy.” Chiba huffs, fanning herself with an annoyed look at Hashirama. “Make yourself useful and bring him here, Hashirama. Your father will be here soon, and you know how he likes an orderly dinner.”

“Of course mama-haha.” Hashirama says with an overly serious tone of voice and nod of her head, before abruptly swinging Kawarama around in a circle towards the table. Chiba rolls her eyes at her antics as Kawarama squeals with laughter as he’s plopped down in his seat beside Tobirama, who sits unfazed as always.

Hashirama boops both his brother’s noses once before taking his own seat across from them, and not a moment too soon. Butsuma enters, face drawn and tired, and they all quietly wait for him to take his seat at the head of the table. Chiba bows to him as he sits, taking the tea pot form her maid, Lin, and pouring him a cup.

“Shujin-sama, some tea.” Chiba says warmly, addressing Butsuma with the familiar term for husband. Hashirama hides the scrunch of her nose at the term; she’s never really liked it considering its literal meaning is ‘master.’ She wonders if someday she’ll be required to call whatever man her father decides to marry her to such a thing, and feels the vague urge to gag. 

“How was your day, shujin-sama?” Chiba asks, a smile in her voice. Hashirama is always surprised by just how different she sounds when addressing her father rather than her. 

Butsuma heaves a sigh as he begins to eat, signalling the rest of the table that they too can begin to dine. “It was satisfactory.”

They take dinner in silence, as they usually do, until Butsuma is mostly finished eating. Then comes the inquisition.

“How goes your studies Tobirama.” It’s never a question when Butsuma speaks it, but rather a demand.

“Norito-sensei says I’m doing well in my studies, chichi-ue.” Tobirama says, calm as always. Hashirama has always admired how the four year old boy manages to stay so even keeled in the face of their father, even at his young age. “Although I have some ways to go when it comes to physical prowess, I’m quickly catching up to the older boys.”

“Hm.” Butsuma hums with a nod, “Norito-sensei did mention you were lacking in stamina. Likely because your mother coddled you too much as a babe.”

Chiba flinched ever so slightly at that, but bowed her head with a tittering laugh in the next moment. “Ah, a mother can’t help but try and protect her child, shujin-sama.”

“Indeed, to their own detriment sometimes. It is an inherent failing of the fairer sex, Tobirama.” Butsuma sighs, glancing towards Hashirama with the briefest frown. “They are weak to their sentimental emotions. Ensure such weakness does not rub off on you.”

“Of course, chichi-ue.” Tobirama says, with a quick inclination of his head. Hashirama looks away with a frown.

“And I expect more than for you to just ‘catch up’ with your peers.” Butsuma continues. “I expect you to exceed them.”

He’s four! He’s only just started training! Hashirama thinks with a huff, hand clenching on her chopsticks. So what if he’s not as fast as the other boys yet, he’s leagues ahead of them in calligraphy and math and kanji–

“...yes, chichi-ue.” Is all Tobirama says, again, and it’s only his red eyes glare that stops Hashirama from spitting out her raging thoughts in defense of him. “I will do better.”

“Good.” Butsuma says, taking a sip of his tea. He looks then to Chiba, who straightens. “And how is my youngest son?”

“Doing well, shujin-sama.” Chiba says with a genuine smile as she smooths a hand over Kawarama’s shorn head. Only a single tuft of tied brown hair sprouts from the top of his head, like a spring onion from the earth. “Tadashi-san says he’s a strong and healthy young boy. Almost too healthy even! I can’t keep up with his energy while I’m like this!”

Chiba laughs behind a raised hand, and Kawarama mirrors her with a gap toothed smile. Hashirama watches with a near unbearable urge to smother him with a hug as he cutely struggles with his chopsticks. It only takes a few attempts for him to get annoyed with them though, his little cheeks puffing out as he drops another slice of pickled radish.

“Ne, do you need some help Kawa-kun?” Hashirama coos, “Let big brother feed you–”

“No! I’m not baby!” Kawarama shouts, startling Hashirama into laughing which just seems to make the boy pout more. “I can do it!”

Hashirama nods as she leans her head on her fist, “Oh? Okay, let me see you do it then Kawa-kun, since you’re so grown up. If you can, I’ll give you my pickled ume!”

“You will do no such thing.” Chiba tuts, leaning forward with her own chopsticks to grab some food. “Here, Kawarama-kun, let mommy feed you, hmm?”

“No!” Kawarama glares at her and then Hashirama, picking up his chopsticks with determination. Tobirama sighs next to him, shaking his head as Kawarama tries and fails three times to pick up a bamboo shoot. In the next moment Hashirama is ducking sideways as her little brother drops the bamboo shoot for the fourth time and, in a fit of rage, throws the chopsticks with a frustrated yell. 

Hashirama blinks, turning to see the wooden chopstick lodged perfectly in the shoji screen behind her. When she looks back at her father she finds an almost imperceptible smile curving on his lips, but it’s gone almost as soon as she sees it.

“Kawarama-kun!” Chiba gasps in dismay, “What are you doing?! Apologize to your father this instant for your rudeness!”

Apologize to chichi-ue but not to me? Hashirama huffs to herself, I’m the one who nearly got skewered! Not that I’d care if I did get hit, I mean he’s two after all.

“...’m sorry, chichi-ue.” Kawarama says after a long glare from his mother. He ducks his head, looking suitably chastised, and Hashirama thinks that no one could stay mad at a face like that.

“It’s fine. I can see he will be a strong and healthy Senju shinobi…” Butsuma says with a dismissive wave of his hand, before his gaze intensifies into a glare on his youngest son. “However, a good shinobi never lets his emotions get the better of him; is that understood, Kawarama?”

Slowly Kawarama nods his head, and after a quick nudge from Tobirama he squeeks out, “Y-yes, chichi-ue!”

Satisfied, Butsuma’s glare dims and turns neutral again as it lands on Chiba. “And you, Chiba, when does Tadashi say you are due?”

Chiba’s hand comes up to her large rounded stomach, her smile pinched. “Not long now. Tadashi-san was sure I would have my labor pains by now, but it seems this one’s stubborn. Seems like they want to come on their own time.”

“Haha-mama, do you think it’ll be another boy?” Hashirama says with excitement, “Or will I be getting a sister?”

“Well, Tadashi-san says it’s carrying low again, like Tobirama-kun and Kawarama-kun.” Chiba says, “So likely another boy.”

“Awww,” Hashirama whines with a little pout. “I was hoping for a sister–”

“A son would be more suitable.” Butsuma says, interrupting whatever Chiba was about to say. His gaze once more glances to Hashirama, that frown flickering and fading in the blink of an eye. “Although things have been stable as of late. I suppose a daughter would not be the worst thing…should you give me one Chiba.”

The second half of his sentence feels tacked on to Hashirama, and something strange flutters in her stomach. She’s not sure how to take her father’s words, whether they are a kindness or meant to remind her of her place. Is he implying that her time as the heir is coming to a close? What will that mean for her?

“I only hope for a healthy child, shujin-sama.” Chiba says with a demure inclination of her head. “If a son is what you would prefer, I will pray that a son is what I deliver.”

“Whatever they are, boy or girl, I can’t wait to meet them. Maybe I can come with chichi-ue when they’re born, like I did with Kawa-kun—” Hashirama says, looking at her father with excitement, only for Chiba to interrupt and redirect the conversation.

“I suppose we’ll have to see when the time comes. I wouldn’t want to wake you if I go into labor in the dead of night.” Chiba says with a gentle smile that sets Hashirama’s teeth on edge, and there’s something sly and angry in her eyes when she looks at her. “You’re a growing young boy who needs sleep to keep up your strength. Speaking of…I’ve heard good things from Shibuma-sama about your training Hashirama-kun. Surely you’ll be taking on your first mission soon?”

“Hm, you are seven now...” Butsuma nods, taking a second helping of rice with a thoughtful look on his face. “…I suppose it is about time for your first mission. I’ll look into getting you sent out soon–”

“First mission?” Hashirama says nervously, so shocked she doesn’t notice the glare her father sends her for interrupting. “But I only just started training under Shibuma-sama—”

Quickly Hashirama’s mouth clicks closed as her father clicks his tongue dismissively, finally noticing his harsh look. “Shibuma-sama teaches the boys over seven while they’re in the village; his training is supplementary at best. The true skills of a shinobi can only be learned upon the field. I’ll see to finding you a captain for your first mission…I would head it mysrlf, if not for Chiba being so close to her due date.”

Chiba bows her head with a smile, “You’re too kind, shujin-sama.”

“It is expected.” Is all Butsuma says, and waves her thanks away. He turns back to Hashirama with a thoughtful look, before nodding. “Kondoro is a strong and capable captain. There’s no one better that I would trust with your first mission. He’s heading out in two days time for a simple merchant protection mission; you will join him.”

“T-two days?!” Hashirama gasps, looking at Chiba's round stomach. She herself said she was due any day now. “But–how long will the mission last?”

Butsuma sighs, “A month, I’d say, but it depends largely on the speed of the merchants caravan–”

“ A month?! But I’ll miss my new sibling being born! Can’t you send me out after—”

Butsuma slams his cup down hard on the table, the sound of shattering stone wear forcing a sudden stillness at the table. Hashirama’s eyes widen as she watches the tea seep under the dishes on the table, dripping down and off the edge onto her hakama.

“I have given you your orders; I will not be questioned!” Butsuma says severely, voice low and calm but no less deadly. Hashirama shrinks in her seat. “Speak with Kondoro tomorrow morning.You leave in two days time. I will hear no more on this subject.”

“...yes, chichi-ue.” Hashirama whispers, watching as Chiba’s maid Lin hurries forward to clean the mess up. On Chiba’s lips she sees a brief smile twitch to life, and Hashirama scowls down at her rice. The rest of the dinner is silent and chilly, even the two year old Kawarama sensing it is better to keep quiet. Hashirama’s hands shake so badly she can hardly use her chopsticks any better than Kawarama.

–

“Ready, Hashirama-kun?” Kondoro calls from behind her, where he and several Senjiro shinobi are making last minute adjustments to their armor. Their protection detail is made up of about five other shinobi, not counting Kondoro and Hashirama. “We’re about to head out!”

Hashirama turns away from the gates to their little village, frowning as she bounces from foot to foot nervously. “I’m coming!”

Yano pats her cheek with an apologetic smile, knowing she’d hoped to see her brothers before she left. Touka even looks a little sad for her, frowning back at the village as if she could will her brother's into existence with a glare.

“I’m sure they’d be here if they could.” Yano whispers, and Hashirama knows it’s true. She’d tried to find Tobirama before he’d gone to training this morning, but apparently Chiba had pushed him out the door particularly early, and Lin had turned Hashirama away at the gate to the West wing, saying Kawarama was still sleeping.

So here Hashirama stands, nerves making her stomach turn, about to go on her first mission without any of her family here to send her off. Well, her direct blood family anyways. She looks at Yano and Touka with a smile.

“Thanks for coming to see me off.” She says with a bright grin, shoving the feelings of disappointment down. “Even Touka-chan! I’m surprised, I figured you’d be busy with your new kunoichi classes.”

“It’s your first mission. Of course I’d be here.” Touka says with a huff, surprising Hashirama into gaping at her. It's not like her to be so honest with her care. “...I just wish I could come with you. Kunoichi classes are boring.”

“Your time in the field will come, you're too young yet.” Yano says with a click of a tongue and a sigh. “Always so eager to grow up…”

Despite being the same age as Hashirama, Touka has only just begun training with chakra and going to kunoichi classes. Hashirama knows that the girls in the clan don’t start training until much later than the boys, although when she’d asked Yano why that is she’d looked hesitant to tell her.

“…many in the clan believe that training girls too early and too hard stunts their chakra, as well as their ability to have children later in life.”  

“But I’m…y’know. And I have plenty of chakra.”

“It may simply be superstition…or perhaps you’re just especially exceptional.” 

Yano was always saying that, that Hashirama is 'the exception to the rule.' She’s always the ‘exception’ isn’t she? But Hashirama doesn’t feel ‘exceptional.’ As she’s grown older she’s begun to feel more and more strange. Wrong. Like a square peg in a round hole. Everyone wants her to fit into a box that doesn’t fit quite right. The son. The daughter. The heir. The brother. The shinobi. The kunoichi.

Hashirama just wants to be, without expectations. Is that such a large thing to ask for?

“Hashirama-kuuun!” Kondoro calls again, this time louder and more whiny. 

"Coming!" Hashirama groans over her shoulder.

“Seems like it’s time for you to go, bocchan.” Yano says, and although her face is calm and posture perfect, there’s a slight shake in her voice that has Hashirama hesitant to leave. When she glances at Touka she finds the girl wringing her kimono between her hands, an unusual display of nerves from the usually steady girl.

“I’ll be fine!” Hashirama says with sudden surety, both to Yano and Touka, “It’s just a caravan protection mission, Kondoro-san says hardly anything ever happens on these!”

“Knowing your luck, you’ve probably just jinxed it.” Touka mutters, pursing her lips when Yano turns a disapproving glare on her. “...But yeah, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just...don’t get yourself killed, Hashirama-kun.”

"Touka!" Yano hisses, making Touka pout and cross her arms.

"Don't get yourself kill, bocchan." Touka corrects herself.

Hashirama rolls her eyes at the formal address, but she knows it’s necessary with so many other shinobi of the clan around to see them off. 

“Like someone as strong as me could get killed on their first mission!” She reaches over and punches Touka on the arm, prompting the girl to punch her back twice as hard on instinct. Hashirama grins as she rubs her arm; even without chakra Touka hit’s strong. “I’m sure it’ll be an easy, boring first mission with no combat at all, don’t worry so much!”

“Jinx.” Touka whispers with a sigh under her breath.

She doesn’t realize it then, but Touka is correct. Hashirama does indeed jinx it.

–

Hashirama has been outside the Senju compound gates, but has never gone this far. As soon as she turned three and started training under Norito-sensei she’d pretty much had free reign of the tiny village that was their home. She’d run through the streets of the Senju homes, jumped through the trees of the forest where their training grounds are, and even snuck out of the compound to practice water walking in the flooded rice fields just past the gates, and lazed in the flower strewn meadows beyond that.

But she’s never gone farther than that, never stepped past the last rice paddy onto the roughshod road that leads to the capital. Now here she is walking at a civilian pace beside the merchant’s caravan, far enough away that the Senju village has become a tiny dot in the distance whenever she looks over her shoulder. Eventually she can’t even see the gates at all, just the smoke trails from the homes lit fires, and then finally nothing at all. 

It’s a strange feeling, being so far from home. The world feels endlessly large all around her, every movement of the trees, every rustle in the undergrowth, makes her twitch to attention. Her hands feels perpetually on her bag of kunai or the sheathed tanto at her waist.

Suddenly a hand falls on her shoulder, and Hashirama nearly jumps out of her skin.

“You’re making our client nervous.” Kondoro says with a chuckle, and Hashirama valiantly tries to calm her heart rate. “You need to calm down, Hashi-kun.”

“Ah, s-sorry, Kondo-san.” Hashirama says with an awkward laugh as she rubs the back of her neck. “I guess I’m a little jumpy.”

Kondoro’s large gloved hands pat her on the head, ruffling her newly styled bowl cut hair. “Awww, is little Hashi-kun nervous for their first mission?! So cuuute!”

“I’m not nervous! I’m just…alert!” Hashirama huffs, slapping Kondoro’s hand away. The man is practically her uncle, despite technically being her father’s cousin, and so their familiarity is not seen as unusual to the rest of the shinobi in their group.

“There’s no need to be scared, Hashirama-kun!” Kondoro says with a grin, learning down to throw his arm around her shoulder and squeeze her against his side. “The great Senju Kondoro is here to protect you from all manner of beasties, bandits and enemy shinobi!”

Around them their clansmen and the merchants alike snicker as Kondoro picks her up easily and twirls her around, causing her to screech in surprise.

“Kondo-san, stoooop, you’re embarrassing me!” Hashirama squeals, squirming in his hold. Thankfully, with a little pressure and a hard kick to his shin, Kondoro lets her go and Hashirama hurries to the other side of the caravan, putting the wagon between them.

"Aww, he's shy." Kondoro coos, and laughter rises from the group again at their antics. Hashirama’s face turns more red than a tomato as she stomps as far ahead as she can get from her pseudo uncle figure.

“I can’t believe him,” Hashirama hisses to herself, kicking at a rock on the road forcefully “He’s making me look like an idiot in front of everyone on my first mission…I'm not a baby!”

“Well, at least you’re more embarrassed than nervous now, right?” A voice says from behind her, and Hashirama jolts as she looks up to find one of their merchant clients smiling down at her. 

The man is older, with the weathered face of one used to being out in the sun, dressed in a simple blue checkered kimono and grey hakama. He’s riding a tawny horse, one of the few the merchants have that aren’t being used to pull the carts. The man gives a brief half bow of his head from atop his steed, face set in the perpetual smile of a salesman.

“I’m Tanaka Sen." He says with a grin, "Well met, shinobi-san.”

Hashirama quickly bows back, recognizing the man’s name as the leader of this caravan. Kondoro had given her a brief run down of the mission the day before, telling her that they’d be protecting the Tanaka merchant group’s caravan as they travelled north from neighboring Mie province to the capital of their own province, Yamashi city.

“Well met, Tanaka-san, my names is Senju Hashirama.” Hashirama says quickly, bowing a bit too lowly for her status, but trying to make a good impression. 

Tanaka Sen laughs as he waves her bow off, “Ah, the little Senju heir if I recall correctly? No wonder Kondoro-san is treating you so kindly.”

“That’s what you call kindly?” Hashirama grumbles.

Tanaka just laughs again, moving his horse forward at a quicker pace, forcing Hashirama to move faster as well. “Kondoro-san has protected my caravan many times over the years, and never have I seen him so familiar with anyone under his command.”

“He’s my father’s cousin, but he’s always been more of an uncle really.” Hashirama sighs, looking hesitantly up at the man. He seems like a nice old man, and she decides to confide in him. “Actually this…is my first mission. I think he’s just being over protective.”

“Understandable.” Tanaka hums, “I would be protective too if my nephew were leaving the safety of my village for the first time.”

Hashirama puffs up her chest, feeling like she needs to prove to this man that although she’s inexperience she is still a shinobi. “I’m not a child though, I can take care of myself! Norito-sensei and Shibuma-sama both said I’m ready for the field, and my father agreed.”

“I’m sure you are, shinobi-san.” Tanaka says soothingly, although Hashirama bristles at the slight mocking tone. 

“I am! I’m seven years and two months now, plenty old for the field.” Hashirama says seriously, and is confused by the sad look that appears on Tanaka’s face.

“Seven years old…” The old man sighs, shaking his head. “I know it’s not my place, but I’ve never understood that aspect of your kind…to put such young children in danger, when they should still be by their mother’s side.”

Hashirama frowns, readying herself to try and convince the old man that she’s plenty strong enough to protect him despite her age, when suddenly she feels Kondoro’s chakra spike. Her head whips to the side, towards the opposite side of the caravan, where Kondoro stands atop one of the covered wagons. His hand subtly directs her and the other three Senjirou shinobi in their group to watch the tree line and prepare for an attack.

“Tanaka-san!” Kondoro’s chipper voice calls from atop the wagon. “We’ve been walking for quite some time, perhaps the horses could use a rest? It won’t be long before the road turns away from the water, this could be the last point where the horses could easily drink from the stream.”

“Ah, a good call Kondoro-san!” Tanaka calls with a nod, seemingly catching on to his underlying message by the sudden tensing of his shoulders. “I’ll have my crew and I take the horses down to the stream and refill our own canteens as well.”

“Good. Hashirama, I’ll leave their protection to you.” Kondoro says, and Hashirama startles to attention. 

For a moment she’s confused, having expected to join Kondoro and the others in whatever attack they’re expecting, but then she realizes; he’s trying to get both the merchants and her away from the fighting. She frowns, but doesn’t argue with him. To do so would be to question his authority, and if she’s learned anything from her training and dealing with her father it's that you never question authority in front of others. 

“Yes, Kondoro-san.” Hashirama says with a nod of her head. 

She helps Tanaka and his crew release the draft horses from their cart holsters, and then follows them down to the stream just a short walk off the road. The merchants begin refilling their canteens, the horses drinking freely from the running water downstream, both seemingly unaware of the sudden danger they’re in. Tanaka is the only one who remains on alert, his hand going to a tanto strapped and hidden beneath his haori. Hashirama hadn’t even noticed it before now, and she chastises herself; she needs to be more observant.

Hashirama paces the stretch of shore, throwing all her senses outward in preparation for any stragglers. She can’t hear the fight from here, which is good considering it might cause the merchants to panic, but she can feel it. Only a short walk away the earth hums with the disturbance of fighting, the trees screech with each kunai that cuts into their bark, and the grass beats like a heartbeat every time it’s trampled underfoot. 

Hashirama has had time to practice her strange sensory abilities since she discovered them years ago, and can now sense the energy of every plant for a mile in all directions. It’s nothing on how far Tobirama can sense people’s chakra, even being three years younger than Hashirama, and it can often miss people if they’re condensing their chakra to nothing, but it’s still quite useful. After all, her strange ability is the only reason she notices the illusion being cast around them when she does.

It’s the stream that does it. Water has a sound like laughter, light and fluttering, but as soon as the illusion settles over the area that laughter is suddenly gone. The brook continues to flow, the literal sound of water undisturbed, but without that underlying noise of energy that is a constant in Hashirama’s mind, it all feels…wrong.

Already on high alert, the seven year old takes stock of her surroundings with sudden anxiety. The men are laughing and lounging on rocks by the river, Tanaka is staring with worry back up the hill to where the caravans are, and the horses are lazily grazing on grass close to the shoreline…Her eyes, ears, and nose are all telling her nothing is wrong…but that extra sixth sense is screaming something is off.

“Kai.” Hashirama whispers to herself, changing the flow of her chakra the way that elder Shibuma had recently taught them to when they suspect a genjutsu. She blinks, and suddenly she finds herself staring at a boy, young but older than her, and walking slowly across the river with a kunai in his hand. He’s dressed all in black, his face covered except his eyes, and he seems to be struggling to keep himself above water. His feet slip deep into the water for a moment before he catches himself, stepping back onto the surface of the raging river. He’s halfway across when Hashirama notices him, and she doesn’t quite manage to hide her gasp of surprise. He looks up sharply from his feet, and wide blue eyes meet hers with surprise.

“Everyone, get into the treeline! Take cover!” Hashirama shouts suddenly, and hates how her tiny voice barely carries over the sound of the men’s raucous discussions. Tanaka hears her however, being close, and immediately repeats her orders. 

“The trees! Everyone get into the trees!” Tanaka bellows out. 

Hashirama runs forward to the edge of the shore as the men startle from their places of rest, the illusion broken. Her own control isn’t the greatest yet when it comes to water-walking, so instead of approaching the boy she throws several kunai at his feet, trying to unbalance him. It seems to work, as the shinobi's feet sink into the water and he's pulled in by the current for a moment before he manages to catch himself on a large boulder peeking from the surface of the river. 

The horses neigh in sudden shock as the enemy shinobi rights himself and throws a kunai across the river into the dirt at their hooves. The four horses rear up on their hind legs and take off up the hill, causing Tanaka to curse and run after them.

“Tanaka-san! Wait, don’t–!” Hashirama calls, only to be cut off by the slice of a kunai against her cheek. She turns a glare on the boy, who can’t be older than fourteen by his height and build. She suddenly realizes his intent was never to really attack, but rather to push them back towards the fighting behind them, up the hill.

She should run after Tanaka, stop him from running into danger, but to do so would be to leave the rest of the merchants in harms way. She’s paralyzed by sudden indecision, terror freezing her legs. The boy in the center of the river seems to notice her indecision, straightening up from his crouched position on the rock, and tilting his head at her. It’s clear he knows now that she can’t water-walk well enough to reach him, and her breath catches in her throat as he takes a careful step back onto the water. He’ll reach her side of the shore in no time. 

“What are you doing, shinobi-san!” One of the merchants say from the treeline, “Protect us! Kill him!”

The enemy shinobi bounds across the river as she remains frozen, quickly jumping onto the shore, and behind her the merchants cry out in alarm as they turn and run in the opposite direction. Clearly they are as untrusting of her ability as Tanaka and Kondoro were, and why shouldn’t they be? Hashirama has said nothing to assuage their fears over her lack of experience and young age. She’s frozen to the shoreline, terrified and uncertain and shaking. She’s suddenly reminded of how small she is compared to this older boy, how young and stupid. She feels like a fool and a fake. What kind of shinobi freezes like this?

“Move, boy! Or you’ll die!” A voice says from behind her, old and gravelly. Hashirama glances to the side and sees Tanaka, back with the horses, his men stampeding up the hill around him in a panic. 

Pain slices through her neck, a kunai thrown just slightly off target by her sudden head movement. Blood drips down into the collar of her kimono; a familiar pain that brings back half forgotten memories from her childhood; memories of a late night rendezvous into Chiba’s rooms to see her first brother. 

Hashirama gasps to life, adrenaline surging through her tiny limbs as she brings her tanto up just in time to defend herself from the enemies attack. Her feet slide into the standard Senju taijutsu stance taught to all the boys in the clan, the Way of Roots, a style best used to withstand heavy force from a single attacking opponent.

The boy engages her in close combat, clearly more sure footed on solid ground. He has the advantage of being taller and older than her, but he’s clearly not particularly skilled and lacks a specific taijutsu style. Hashirama uses every skill Norito-sensei and elder Shibuma have ever taught her to fend off his attacks, and her well made tanto at least gives her a good defense against his shoddy kunai. She’ll have to remember to thank Ren, the head blacksmith for the Senju, when she gets home.

The kunai sparks against her blade as the boy barrels down on her, using both his hands now to try and press her down into the earth with sheer force. She groans as her arms begin to shake; she won’t win in a competition of strength or stamina, she needs to end this fight now. With a quick movement of her leg, she slams her foot up and into the boy’s knee. Her enemy grunts in pain, but the force is only enough to throw him off balance rather than break anything. Still, it’s enough for her to hook her blade into the curve of his kunai and twist it from his grip, slicing into his hand hard enough to take several fingers. 

The boy screams in pain as he stumbles back, holding his hand as it spurts blood. Hashirama takes advantage of this, moving to slice at his other hand, taking his wrist this time. The blood splatters her face and the screams ring in her ears, as he falls on his ass in the shallows of the river’s shore.

“Please! Please, stop I surrender!” The boy sobs, voice cracking with signs of puberty. He’s holding his bleeding wrist to his chest with the remains of his other hand, rocking back and forth in the water as he gasps for breath.

Hashirama’s hands shake around her tanto, still held defensively out in front of herself. She takes a step forward, putting herself between the enemy and Tanaka. When she looks back she can see he and his men are standing at the top of the hill, surrounded by Senju shinobi. Something tight and heavy in her chest loosens to see the other shinobi in their group there, alive and well. When she turns back she almost screams as she see’s Kondoro suddenly there, looming over the crying boy and standing atop the now bloody water.

“K-kondo-san–” Hashirama gasps, trying to slow her pounding heart. The fear quickly leaves her, replaced by relief to see her pseudo uncle and commanding officer. “Should I tie him up for questioning–”

“No.” Kondoro says, and his voice is hard and steely. “We already questioned his companions, right before we killed them. This one’s useless to us.”

It startles her, the monotone way he talks, as it’s so vastly different than what she’s used to hearing him sound like. Gone is the cheerful and upbeat Kondoro she’s used to; in his place is a shinobi used to battle and death. The boy cries at Kondoro’s words, likely distraught at the deaths of his companions, but Kondoro doesn’t even blink. Instead, he reaches down with one hand and pulls off the boys head covering, before roughly grabbing him by his brown hair and dragging him out of the water and onto the shore. The boy cries in alarm, struggling to push his hand off his head with his bloody stumps, until Kondoro grabs his wrists in one hand and wrenches them behind his back.

Kondoro stops before her, pushing the boy to his knees in the sand, and Hashirama feels nauseous. Her hands are shaking so badly she nearly drops her tanto. Without his mask he looks younger than she’d thought he was, maybe closer to eleven than fourteen. He stares up at her with red and puffy eyes, tears streaking down his face.

“Please, please I was only following orders—”

“Hashirama.” Kondoro’s voice pulls her from her tunnel vision on the boys face. She looks up at her commanding officer, barely recognizing his cold serious face. “There can be no survivors.”

“We just wanted the cargo, we weren’t going to kill anyone I swear!” Hashirama’s eyes drift back to the boy, as he begs through gasping sobs. 

Hashirama looks pleadingly up at Kondoro at the boys words, but he just shakes his head solemnly. “He-he’s no threat to anyone now.”

“It doesn’t matter. We can’t risk him returning to his clan and getting back up.” Kondoro says, wrenching the boy's head back farther when he begins to thrash. “This was more than simple bandits taking a shot at a passing caravan. This was premeditated, a planned operation. They’ll try again, and we can’t let him return to give them an edge on us with information; he’s seen our faces, he knows how many of us there are. Now, kill him.”

“W-why me–” Hashirama stutters out, glancing up the hill at where the rest of their shinobi team stands vigil. “Couldn’t you–”

“You’re a shinobi now, Hashirama.” Kondoro says with a sigh, something gentling in his gaze briefly as his eyes go sad and soft. Hashirama blinks and in the next moment it’s replaced with that previous blank dead look. “You’ll have to kill eventually. It’s better to do it in a controlled environment now, than to freeze in the field because you’re afraid to kill for the first time…this is the greatest mercy I can give you.”

“But–” Hashirama gasps, hand tightening on her tanto. She stares into the pleading eyes of the boy that was just trying to kill her and feels her heart breaking. 

“Just let me go, please, I don’t even know what clan your from–!”

“Hashirama, you know this is the way it must be.” Kondoro says softly. “Put him out of his misery.”

“I’ll just go home, you’ll never hear from me again–”

“Slit his throat, Hashirama!”

Hashirama closes her eyes, letting out a scream of frustration and pain as she strikes out forward. A gurgling sound reaches her ears. She keeps her eyes closed tightly. The sound of a body hitting the ground.

She flinches as a wet and sticky hand touches her wrist, moving to take the tanto from  her hand. Kondoro’s voice is whispering something to her, but she can’t make it out over the roaring of the water in her ears. His voice drifts in and out of her consciousness, a burst of words heard in between her heart beats.

“Shh, shhh...’s okay...Hachi...let go of the...did so well...’m sorry—”

The river sounds strange to her ears, and after a movement she realizes why; the sound of the river changes when it mixes with blood; what was once laughter has turned to sobs.

—

When Hashirama returns home one month later, she finds Yano at the gates waiting for her. She feels the tears she’d been holding back for weeks suddenly well up in her eyes at the sight of the woman, and takes a deep shuddering breath as she tries to keep it together. 

“So it’s happened.” Yano says on a sigh as she takes her face between her hands and presses a kiss to her brow, wiping away tears before anyone can see. She wouldn’t usually be so affectionate in public, but it seems that this moment is an exception as she leans forward to hug her and whisper in her ear. “I’m sorry, Hachi-chan. I'd hoped you'd be a little older before...well.”

Hashirama isn’t surprised that she understands without her needing to say anything at all. Yano has always been like that; knowing from a single look what Hashirama is thinking. Kondoro watches a few feet away with a frown, and as he passes he stops and pats Hashirama’s shoulder.

“It needed to be done.” Is all he says, “You’ll see it as the kindness it is someday.”

Hashirama wants to shrug his hand off, as she’s done every time he’s tried to comfort her this past month…but something in Yano’s gaze stops her. She looks up at Kondoro and makes eye contact for the first time in weeks, seeing nothing but sadness in his dark gaze. Slowly, Hashirama nods to him and watches as the barely noticeable tension he’d been carrying all month leaves his shoulders on a sigh. 

“Your first mission went well.” Kondoro says, and then chances a crooked smile and a wink at Hashirama, “I’ll tell my cousin he should be proud of his heir.”

The words fall flat as Hashirama turns away and heads home, not even waiting for Yano to follow her. For years all Hashirama has ever wanted was to make her father proud…and yet now that it’s within her reach she wants nothing to do with it.

As soon as she turned seven and left Norito-sensei’s training sessions for the field, she’d been considered an adult in the shinobi world…but in truth she hadn’t really felt any different than before. Now though…now she looked back and realized just what she’d lost. An innocence she hadn’t even realized she’d had, broken at her feet.

She still saw that boy’s red rimmed blue eyes staring up at her whenever she closed her eyes. She wondered at who he left behind, if he had brothers like she did that would miss him. 

That night, she cried herself to sleep, not just in mourning for the end of her childhood, but the end of that nameless boy’s life. She knew someday her own brothers would face the same choice she did, to kill or be killed, to end a life so you could continue your own…she wished there was some way to prevent it, to keep her brother safe and innocent forever, but such was the life of a shinobi. 

There was no avoiding death in this line of duty. It was either your own, or someone elses…she only hoped that wherever that boy was after death, that someday he forgave her. She thinks, as she slowly drifted to sleep in between bouts of tears, that if he’d killed her she would have forgiven him.

Chapter Text

Hashirama rocks back and forth on her heels as she stares down into the training yard, waiting. She’d just gotten back into the village from a mission and, although she’d tried to walk her brothers to practice, Chiba’s maid Lin had told her they’d already left hours ago. She'd asked after her youngest brother too, Itama, but Lin had said the two year old was still sleeping. Hashirama hated that she'd missed Itama's birth and naming ceremony and tried at every opportunity to see him when she was in the compound, but Chiba was particularly protective of him. Hashirama thought it might be because he's her youngest boy, only two and yet to start training like her other children. Hashirama both can't wait for Itama to join her other brothers in the training yard and dreads it with every fiber of her being. Either way, she'd spent the first morning back in the compound being turned away from the main house, and decided to head to the training grounds to reunite with her little brothers.

So here she is, loitering at the top of the hill overlooking younger kids training yard, squinting down at Norito-sensei and the horde of younger Senju and Senjirou children. A tuft of white hair suddenly pops from the trees, followed by a sandy blonde one, and Hashirama squeals and waves at the two panting boys from atop the hill.

“Tobi-kun! Kawa-kun! I’ve missed you!” Hashirama says as her cute little brothers look up from the training grounds with surprised eyes. 

“Anija!” Kawarama says with a gap toothed grin, immediately taking off up the hill to hug her. “You’re back! I missed you!”

Hashirama promptly picks Kawarama up and twirls him in a circle that ends with a hug. Four year old Kawarama giggles as he hugs back enthusiastically, before Hashirama swings him around onto her back. Kawarama squeals as he wraps his arms around her neck. 

“You’ve gotten bigger!” Hashirama coos, pinching Kawarama’s cheek over her shoulder. “Won’t be long before I can’t carry you like this anymore Kawa-kun!”

“Nooo!” Kawarama whines, holding her neck tighter. “But I love piggy-backs!”

“He’s not bigger; that’s impossible, it’s only been a week since you last saw him.” Tobirama interjects, “No one can grow a significant amount in a single week.”

Tobirama arrives up the hill at a more sedate pace with a sigh. He’s six now, but still looks so small in his loose jinbei. Hashirama dreads when it will be replaced with hakama; he’s just a year away from having his obitoki-no-gi ceremony and officially being an ‘adult’ in the eyes of the clan. 

Every time Hashirama imagines it her heart flutters with anxiety. After all, being an adult means missions…fighting…killing. Had Hashirama looked that small and vulnerable when he’d been his age? 

“Don’t be jealous, Tobi-kun!” Hashirama teases, “Don’t worry, you look like you’ve gotten taller too–”

“Yeah, anija!” Kawarama says sticking his tongue out at Tobirama from over Hashirama’s shoulder. “Don’t be jealous jus’ cuz you grow slow!”

“Again…you just saw us last week.” Tobirama says, face placid as always but a little tick developing in his eye. He pushes her away as she goes in for a hug. 

“Yes, but that was so loooong ago, and now that I’m back in the village I should see you everyday! I wanted to walk you to training, like when you were younger!” Hashirama huffed, narrowing her eyes at her brother suspiciously. “Are you getting here earlier to avoid me?”

Tobirama crosses his arms, frowning. “No. You’re just getting here late, anija.”

“It’s so cute how you try to be all serious like an adult.” Hashirama coos as she reaches forward and pinches his cheeks, even as she feels vaguely sad suddenly. “Don’t grow up too fast, ne? Both of you stay my cute little brothers for as long as possible~”

“ Anija. ” Tobirama says, his face actually flushing. Perhaps it’s just because his skin is so pale, but whenever he even so much as slightly blushes it makes him look like a tomato.

“You should call me onii-san, not anija!” Hashirama whines, not for the first time. “You sound so formal.” 

“That would be improper.” Tobirama mumbles, and Hashirama notes how his eyes flicker over his shoulder nervously. When she glances over it she scowls to find Norito-sensei standing there with a raised brow. “Anija, you’re embarrassing us in front of sensei. Please stop.”

“Eh? Who? Norito-sensei?” Hashirama looks back and forth between Tobirama, Kawarama and Norito with a pout. 

“Waka-sama, it’s been some time.” Norito-sensei says with a pained grimace of a smile. “Welcome back from your mission–”

Hashirama looks at him seriously for a moment before interrupting him by breaking into laughter. “Pffffft! What’s there to be embarrassed about in front of Norito-sensei? As if.”

Norito’s face reddens, his smile going tense. Tobirama looks back and forth between them with furrowed brows, while Kawarama just hangs off of Hashirama’s back with the obliviousness only a four year old can manage. While Norito is still the clan’s teacher for the children under seven, Hashirama left the group of youngsters behind years ago. For the past two years she’s been learning from Kondoro in the field while she’s on missions, and from elder Shibuma when she’s in the village. 

All this to say, Hashirama can now treat her old childhood sensei just as he always treated her; namely, by picking on him.

“Tobi-kun, Kawa-kun, don’t take anything he says too seriously!” Hashirama continues, leaning forward towards Tobirama to faux whisper. “One time while he was teaching us tree walking, Norito-sensei got distracted by some pretty kunoichi on the roof and fell from the upper branches!”

“Woah, laaame!” Kawarama laughs gleefully from her back, and even. Tobirama’s eyes widen briefly too, and when he looks at his sensei next there’s a glimmer of judgement there, but he says nothing.

“That’s not–” Norito clears his throat nervously and lets out a fake laugh, “Waka-sama hasn’t changed I see. Still up to your usual jests!”

“But I was being serious.” Hashirama says, for once keeping her face placid without a smile. She nearly breaks when Norito’s eye develops a rapid twitch though. “Hmm, sensei your eye is twitching, are you okay?”

“Just perfect, waka-sama.” Norito says through clenched teeth. “Don’t you have a lesson to get to with Shibuma-sama? I hear you’re fighting with the girls today.”

That actually brightens Hashirama’s smile. At nine she’s never had the opportunity to spar with any of the clan girls training to be kunoichi, despite pleading with Yano to let Touka and her spar. She’d always refused, citing the rule that girls do not start training until they are seven, and do not spar with the boys until they are nine.  The fact that Hashirama is not actually a boy would not matter in this instance of course, since in the eyes of the Senju and Touka herself, she is . 

They would talk. Is all Yano would say, and she’d understood that for once this rule was to protect Touka , not Hashirama. 

“Yup! That’s why I got here early today.” Hashirama says, stretching her arms out above her head. “I’m excited! I finally get to fight Touka-nee!”

Now she’ll finally get the chance to see what Touka’s made of! Her first time fighting another girl, or at least another girl her age in the clan…Hashirama has met a few kunoichi in the field, although usually their battle’s are quick and bloodless. The enemy kunoichi she’s encountered had a tendency to flee when they were caught, rather than stay and fight. The few times they had stood their ground, Kondoro had taken care of them since they were far above Hashirama’s level. 

Still, Hashirama is excited to see how different it will be to fight the girls, and a little nervous. Despite her eagerness, something insidious that speaks with her father’s voice whispers, what if you fail? Everyone will call you weak for losing to a girl.

She pushes it down violently. I am a girl. She reminds herself, And I’ve beaten every boy in the clan that’s my age at least once! Losing to another girl won’t change that.

“Perhaps once the children are done with their training we’ll stop by to watch your spar. It could be educational.” Norito continues, which perks Hashirama up even more. “Try not to lose, waka-sama.”

Hashirama laughs sharply, ignoring the swoop in her stomach as she looks at her brother’s considering eyes. She puffs out her chest, “Even if I do, I always say that every loss is just another lesson on what not to do!”

“That’s…actually good advice.” Tobirama says, raising his brows.

“Don’t look so surprised Tobi-kun!” Hashirama says, instantly deflating.

“You’ll get over it.” Tobirama says with a roll of his eyes, as he always does in response to Hashirama’s theatrics. Kawarama just giggles, and slides over her head to flip down to the ground.

They go their separate ways then, each going to their respective training grounds with the kids their age. Hashirama is practically vibrating by the time he sees Touka’s tall thin figure in the small crowd of girls. Touka is only nine but already she’s taller than Hashirama and most of the boys in the training ground. There’s not nearly as many kunoichi in training as the boys, perhaps one for every three boys in their age group. 

Looking through the group, Hashirama finds several familiar faces, one of them being Kondoro’s daughter Kotone, and another being Suzu-sensei, the older woman who manages the kunoichi training of the girls in the clan. She’s also Norito-sensei’s mother, and often used to pick her grandson Madoma up after practice when he was younger. 

Over the years Madoma-the-bully has gotten easier for Hashirama to handle as she’s gotten better at ninjutsu. The other boy is still better than her at taijutsu, which makes sense as he’s several years older and has the height advantage, but at least he can’t call her ‘ princess’ anymore without expecting a blast of water in the face. The fact that they’re both out in the field now means they don’t see each other as often, which also helps…although Madoma’s field captain being Takanoma means that his hatred for Hashirama has only deepened over the years. 

Hashirama shudders at the thought of Takanoma being her field captain, recalling the icy gaze of her father’s half-brother with a spear of fear. She’d for sure come upon an ‘unfortunate accident’ under his command, although to say as such in public would get her a whipping from her father. The two men have a carefully balanced peace kept by bland public greetings and polite distance at family gatherings, one that would be easily broken by such a direct acknowledgement of the truth.

After a moment, Hashirama notes how Suzu-sensei drifts away from the girls to dote on her grandson Madoma, and rolls her eyes. As if there’s anything to dote on about that jerk. 

“Oba-sama.” Madoma says with a bow when he sees Suzu, who smiles kindly at him as she approaches and pats his head familiarly.

“Mado-kun, I’m excited to see your progress in training today.” Suzu says, her voice gravely with age and the pipe weed she often smokes. “Do your best, ne? My girls need to properly gauge their strength!”

“Yes, Oba-sama.” Madoma says, nasally voice respectful but with an underlying sigh to it. He bows again, although he sends a side eye to the young kunoichi behind her that seems less than enthusiastic. 

Hashirama turns away from the pair to focus on Touka, who stands out amongst the girls for being the tallest despite being one of the youngest. Hashirama is convinced that she’s growing so fast on purpose, like she doesn’t want to lose to Hashirama in anything, not even her height.

“Touka-nee!” Hashirama greets her sister in everything but blood just as eagerly as she did Tobirama, despite having seen Touka just that morning. “Good morning!”

Just like Tobirama, Touka meets her dramatics with a deadpan expression. “Bocchan–”

“I would ask how my grumpiest sibling is this fine morning, but honestly I’m not sure if it’s you or Tobirama at this point…”

“Bocchan, you know better than to call me that when we’re in public.” Touka huffs, but she also knows it’s a lost cause by now. 

Hashirama ignores her admonishment, as she always does. It’s far too late for her complaints anyways; everyone in the clan knows Touka and her are close. Her insistence on calling her bocchan is really just stubbornness at this point.

“And you know better than to call me bocchan!” Hashirama whines, “Although at least it’s not waka-sama. Ugh.”

“You’re joining the other shinobi on missions now; you’re an adult in the eyes of the clan, and you are also the clan head’s son and heir.” Touka points out, but Hashirama rolls her eyes. “To call you anything else would infer that you are not those things, and would therefore be disrespectful–”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m the young master, son of the clan head, heir to the Senju clan. I get it.” Hashirama groans, “It’s too early for a lecture, nee-chan.”

“I have to lecture you whenever I can.” She drawls, “Otherwise it doesn’t stick in that thick head of yours—oh, would you stop acting so depressed?! Honestly, Shibuma-sama will think I’ve just called your father a cow or something–”

Hashirama snorts, instantly dropping the depressed act, “Doubtful. I think Shibuma-sensei knows me well enough to know that’d just make me laugh–”

“Indeed I do. Although it would not stop me from admonishing you for the disrespect.” 

“Shibuma-sama!” Touka gasps as she drops into a bow, alongside several of the other girls around her who have been eavesdropping. “I–I am so–I did not mean to call Oyakata-sama a cow—”

“ Peace .” The old man says, patting Touka’s long dark straight hair with a gentle chuckle. “The antics of children make this old man’s heart lighter.”

“Ah but, Shibuma-sensei, according to Touka-nee, I’m an adult now.” Hashirama whispers to the old man with a solemn nod.

Shibuma chuckles again, “On the battlefield, perhaps, but here? A child you still are.”

Hashirama breaks from her serious act to smile bashfully. Unlike most children her age, herself included when she was younger, she quite likes being called a child now. Being an adult doesn’t seem like much fun, after all.

“Now. I hear you little kunoichi are here to test your mettle against the boys of the clan.” Elder Shibuma says, walking over to a nearby bench and pulling out a pipe; Suzu-sensei joins him a moment later, handing over her own box of pipe weed without prompting. With them sitting beside one another it becomes all the more clear just how old Elder Shibuma really is, as his face is so lined with wrinkles that it perpetually looks like his eyes are closed and his mouth smiling. “I know I am an Elder of this clan, but so long as you are in my training ground you will address me as Shibuma-sensei, not Shibuma-sama.  If you have questions, you must not be afraid to ask them for fear of speaking out of turn. I am not a clan Elder here, but your teacher. Is that understood?”

He addressed this question to the assembled girls, who all nod in sync and bow as they say, “Yes, Shibuma-sensei.”

“Good. Now.” He turns to Hashirama and Touka as he lights his pipe now packed with dry black herbs. “Since you two seem to be eager to trade verbal barbs, let’s see how you do trading physical ones hmm?”

Hashirama grins at Touka, whose lips just barely quirk up in response. They both get into position in the center of the sparring field, the boys on one side of the clearing and the girls on the other. As Hashirama passes Madoma, the slightly older boy gives him a smirk.

“Fight well, waka-sama. ” Madoma says with faux respect in his nasally voice, “I know it’ll probably be hard for you.”

Only Madoma could make a term of respect for the clan head's son sound like an insult. Still, Hashirama isn’t four anymore, when something as silly as being called a princess could upset her.

“Well it’ll certainly be harder than last week, when I beat you.” Hashirama says, sticking her tongue out at the older boy. “Perhaps you should focus on fighting better yourself, Mado-chan.”

The blond haired boy looks ready to retort to her taunt but Hashirama turns her back on him before he can, facing her serious faced best friend.

“I won’t go easy on you Touka-nee.” Hashirama says with a smile as she makes the seal of confrontation.

Touka mirrors her seal, “If you did I’d tell okaa-san and make sure she gives all your tempura to me. In fact, wanna make it a bet?”

“A bet?” Hashirama says, heart beating faster. She does like a good bet.

“If you don’t go easy on me, and I still win…I get all your tempura for a month. If I lose, you can have mine.” Touka says, getting into position. “And trust me, I’ll know if you go easy on me.”

“Begin!”

“You’re on-–oof!” Hashirama’s breath is knocked out of her lungs as Touka flashes forward to punch her right in the solar plexus, before darting away a moment later. Hashirama huffs a laugh and settles her stance wider as Touka circles her. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Fighting Touka is not like fighting any of the other boys in the clan, and especially not like fighting Madoma. The boys in the clan were taught from a young age by Norito-sensei the basic foundation of the Senju taijutsu style, the Way of Roots, one which is used best when meeting enemies head on. The style favored a wide stance for stability and to brace against hard hitting attacks, with its offensive attacks mostly being explosive bursts of energy once their enemy got tired. Like a tree in a flood, Hashirama has always thought. Immovable and steady in the face of a deluge of water.

Touka is not an immovable tree. Touka is more…a leaf constantly moving on the wind, always slipping from her grasp just when she thinks she has her.

“Touka-nee, when did you get so fast!” Hashirama squeals as she blocks five punches from different angles in just as many seconds.

“About when you decided tempura was your favorite food.” She smirks, spinning around his next kick like it didn’t even happen. “Maybe you’d get faster if you didn’t have so much fried food weighing you down.”

“That’s so mean Touk—ah!” Hashirama drops to her stomach, sweating as Touka’s axe kick cracks the ground right beside her nose. She begins rapidly rolling to the left to avoid Touka’s onslaught of kicks, one after another.

“Stop avoiding blocking me and actually attack!” Touka hisses.

Hashirama jumps up from the ground, eyes narrowing on Touka as they begin to circle each other. They make eye contact, and Touka’s pointy brows furrow. 

“I told you I'd be able to tell Hashirama!” Touka says, breaking from her formality in the heat of their spar. “Now stop playing around. I want to know how strong I am, for real. ”

It’s true, she’d been pulling her punches, but not because she didn’t think Touka could take it. She’s just been trying to figure out the weaknesses in Touka’s taijutsu style, one which she’s never fought against, before striking. 

While sparring with the boys, Hashirama knows how they will react. She knows all the places to hit to imbalance their taijutsu, likely because she learned the same style and knows it’s weak points like the back of her hand. But with Touka…it’s like fighting an unknown shinobi on the battlefield, her taijutsu utterly foreign to her. It’s messing with her head a bit, putting her into a headspace that’s far from appropriate for a spar. 

Enemy shinobi don’t, after all, practice the taijutsu style that the Senju do. Each clan or shinobi family have their own taijutsu style, their own strengths and weaknesses, which makes battle against them harder to predict. 

Not that it’s really comparable…in a real battle they would use ninjutsu, genjutsu, kenjutsu and every dirty trick imaginable just to survive. In a real battle you strike to kill…which is why she really doesn’t need her mind going there right now. 

This is just a spar. Hashirama reminds herself as Touka gets a particularly hard punch in, just barely stopping her instinct to try and use her momentum to grab at Touka’s neck and break it. Don’t let your mind wander. This is just a spar!

Hashirama slams her shoulder up into Touka’s solar plexus, but somehow the move doesn’t seem to hit with the same impact that it usually does. She notes how Touka moves with the motion, using the momentum of Hashirama’s attack, rather than bracing against it, as she flips over her back and knees Hashirama hard in the chin as she goes.

Not like a leaf, like a stream. Hashirama notes with awe, rubbing the blood from her chin. Flowing around the rocks, currents wearing it down so slowly you don’t notice when the trickle becomes a torrent.

With this new realization Hashirama changes tactics. 

The next time Hashirama see’s an opening, she feigns a wind up for a left kick and, as soon as she notes Touka’s body turn with the motion, she switches to a right punch. Touka slams into her fist, having moved her body preemptively towards it in preparation for a kick from the left. 

Gasps go up amongst the boys as Touka is thrown across the sparring ground by the hit. She lands hard, tries to get up, and then falls limply back down face first. Hashirama blinks in surprise, not having meant to put quite that much weight behind the attack.

“Ha! I win!” Hashirama crows, as Touka lays there gasping.

“What’s wrong with you, idiot! You didn’t need to hit her that hard!” Madoma yells as he runs over to Touka’s slumped form, “She’s just a girl!”

Hashirama frowns at that. They don’t know it but she’s just a girl too. How silly.

“So?” She huffs, “I told her I wouldn’t go…easy on…her…”

Hashirama looks around, seeing the other boys on the training ground are all glaring at her, not just Madoma. When she looks at the girls she finds them looking vaguely nervous. Suzu-sensei’s face is hard to read, stuck in a confusing cross between disappointment and approval, although her gaze seems to be mostly on Touka. 

Maybe she really should have gone easier on Touka? It was their first spar after all…

“Hey…” Hashirama says, crouching down where Madoma has turned Touka over on her back. Touka’s looking up at the sky with blurry eyes, which slowly focus on Hashirama. She rubs the back of her head nervously. “Touka-nee, you good?”

“Of course she’s not ‘good,’ stupid.” Madoma hisses, “Look at her, she can barely keep her eyes open!”

“Yes, it looks like a concussion.” Suzu-sensei says as she bats Madoma away to check on her student. After a moment she gestures to one of the older girls in the group forward and hands Touka into her arms. “Hana-chan, take her to a healer, preferably her grandfather Tadashi-sensei.”

“Yes, Suzu-sensei!”

She needs Tadashi to look her over? Hashirama starts to feel truly bad then, guilt sitting heavy in her stomach. She’s used to opponents twice her size that can take a blade to the stomach and keep going. She’s used to Madoma and the other clan boys, who are a few years older, broader, and give as hard as they get and more. 

“I—Touka–nee, I’m sorr–”

“Hashi…” Touka interrupts, and the grounds go silent to hear her as she struggles to sit up with Hana’s help, holding her bruised face. As soon as she’s vaguely vertical she looks at Hashirama, brows furrowed deeply, but mouth twitched into a smirk. In front of her she brings her hands together in the sign of reconciliation, which Hashirama quickly mirrors.

“Good…fight.” Touka sighs, then leans back into Hana’s embrace with a groan. “Guess…you’ll be getting my share…of the…tempura.” 

Abruptly the guilt Hashirama’s chest untightens, fear easing off her shoulders. Just as quickly, the zing of adrenaline that comes with a won bet has her punching her arm in the air. “Yes! Tempura for a moooonth! See, I told you Madoma, she can take it!”

“She’s being brought to a healer! How can you say she’s fine!” Madoma says, angry face close enough to Hashirama’s that she can feel the spittle flying from his mouth.

Hashirama purses her lips at the boy, giving him the side eye. “I didn’t say she’s fine. I said she can take it. She’s a kunoichi of the Senju, Mado-chan. Or are you blind as well as stupid?”

“Waka-sama, language! ” Suzu admonishes, before gasping as Madoma surges forward to grasp the front of Hashirama’s kimono aggressively.

“You–!” 

“Mado-kun, release waka-sama this instant!” Suzu-sensei says, but Madoma ignores her. Hashirama sneers at the boy, letting him stretch out the neck of her kimono.

“That’s enough!” Shibuma-sensei interrupts, raising himself up from his bench with the assistance of his cane. Madoma freezes where he has his hand fisted in a very smug looking Hashirama’s top. “...Waka-sama is correct. Touka is a kunoichi of the Senju clan, and you would do well to remember that and treat her as such, Madoma.”

Shibuma comes forward, nodding once to Touka and her friend as they pass on their way to find Tadashi. He stops in the center of the sparring ground, commanding attention even though he’s a rather slight and frail looking man.

“Let this be a valuable lesson for you all.” He says, looking both at the boys and the girls. “On the battlefield things like gender, age, and class have no meaning. All that matters is whether you survive, and live to tell the tale.”

Shibuma gestures to the nearest girl in the crowd forward, who Hashirama recognizes as Kondoro’s daughter, Kotone. She’s the oldest of the group at twelve, the same age as Madoma, although one of the shortest. She has a short muscular build, her hair always in low pigtails and a constant unassuming smile on her freckled face that creases her eyes closed. Shibuma then gestures Madoma forward, who walks forward reluctantly.

“Treat your kunoichi opponents as you would any sparring partner. Do not go easy on them, do not pull your punches, and most of all do not be gentle. ” Shibuma drawls, “For the enemy shinobi they encounter will not treat them with such kindness. They will see them only as enemies to be killed. Do you understand Mado-kun?”

Madoma nods as he faces off in the center of the ring with Kotone, but Hashirama can tell he doesn’t mean it. Kotone, however, seems to take the words to heart at least. They both make the seal of confrontation.

“Begin!”

The fight that follows is one of the saddest ( hilarious ) things Hashirama has ever seen. In fact, it’s over so fast that for years to come she won’t be able to look at Madoma without snickering, to the boy's annoyance.

“Yield~” Kotone happily demands, as she wrenches Madonna's body into a pretzel, that little unassuming smile still on her face. In that moment she looks creepily like her father Kondoro.

“N-no! I can…still…get out–” Madoma squirms, but Kotone has pulled his one arm and leg back and around in such a way that every movement has the boy squawking in pain. 

“Sensei, if he keeps doing that, he’s going to dislocate his shoulder.” Kotone chirps happily to Shibuma.

“Yes, I see that.” Shibuma drawls, “I suppose I’ll have to force the match to end then.”

“Wh-what, no! Sensei I can—get–out!” Madoma wrenches himself abruptly away from Kotone, who makes a little tsk tsk sound as his arm pops out of its socket. Instantly Madoma goes pale. 

“...oh.” He squeaks.

“Ah.” Kotone says with a smile. “I told you.”

“Match end, winner: Senju Kotone. Make the sign of reconciliation…if you can anyways, Madoma.” Shibuma sighs, shaking his head. He quiets his voice as he says under his breath, “Two children to the healers today. It’s not surprising though. This happens every year.”

Hashirama looks at him in surprise, being close enough to hear his soft words. “It does?”

“Indeed.” The old man huffs a laugh, “The follies of prideful young boys so sure they are stronger than every kunoichi simply because they are a girl. It’s unfortunate that many of them will not learn their lesson today…but my hope is that at least some will. It could save their life one day.”

Hashirama nods thoughtfully as she watches Madoma get up with Kotone’s help, before slapping her helping hands away. Hashirama thinks that Madoma learned the lesson just fine, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. If anything Hashirama thinks it’s just changed his sexist caution towards kunoichi to an annoyed hatred.

“You were surprisingly without need of teaching today, waka-sama.” Shibuma says with a tilt of his head. Hashirama blinks in surprise up at her elder, noting the fond smile on his face. “I find that it warms this old man’s heart to know the next generation might be wiser than the last, especially as you’re to be the next clan head.”

The reminder of the lie that is her gender is enough to make her frown. She can only hope her younger brother Tobirama will not disappoint him in that regard, once he’s under his tutelage in a year.

A pang echoes in her chest, that confuses her. At first she thinks it’s anger at the thought of Tobirama getting old enough to enter the field, but no…rather it’s almost…jealous? 

“...Thank you, Shibuma-sensei.” Hashirama says quietly, shaking the feeling away and pasting on a gentle smile. Elder Shibuma pats her head before turning to give some pointers to the two currently sparring children. Hashirama watches as Suzu-sensei remains back, letting Shibuma give advice to both the girl and the boy student.

Over the years, through watching Touka and Kotone and the other girls in the clan, Hashirama has realized there’s many freedoms offered to her by living as a boy that she’d never appreciated nor recognized when she was younger.

For one, there’s not nearly as many restrictions on what she wears or what she does outside formal occasions. Now that she’s older and going on missions, she also has free reign over the entire compound without supervision, something that girls are only allowed once they are married or officially become kunoichi. 

As a boy Hashirama has been trained by the best in the clan since she was first able to walk, learning from multiple teachers and continuing to learn even after she began taking on missions. The girls however, from what Touka has told her, keep their childhood teacher Suzu-sensei only until they begin taking on missions, after which they are apparently on their own. Yano says that many find mentors in the field or amongst the retired kunoichi, often their mothers, but otherwise? Once they are officially kunoichi they are on their own as far as training goes; and such training is important, since their skill as kunoichi determines whether they marry young or postpone it to continue their career.

Hashirama wonders why there is such a rule…perhaps because there are less full time kunoichi in the clan than shinobi? Plus, most of them are expected to retire after they reach the age of marriage, like Yano did.

The thought of retiring from this life entirely someday sends mixed feelings through Hashirama. On one hand, she wouldn’t need to kill anymore…on the other hand, she’d have to get married to someone she probably won’t know and have their children. She’d likely never have time for training anymore either, as she rarely sees Yano do so, and that’d mean naturally getting weaker…and if she’s weaker, then that means she won’t be able to protect her brothers if she needs to. Not to mention she’ll surely not be allowed out on missions with them anyways. She’ll be sentenced to a life of watching their backs leave from the compound gates, just as Yano does everytime Hashirama leaves.

Anxiety strikes through her as she realizes suddenly that one day that will be her reality if her father has anything to say about it. She’s already nine and Tobirama will be joining the field in only a year…how many years does Hashirama have left by her brothers’ side before she ‘dies’ and is shuffled off to the middle of nowhere? How many years after that until she can return, not as Hashirama but as Hachimitsu?

“Winner: Kotone!” Shibuma says, and Hashirama blinks back to the present as she watches Kotone give the seal of reconciliation to the fourth boy she’s beaten in a row. 

“Are you sure you’re actually a girl?” The boy she’d beaten says, looking her up and down with something like disgust. He’s the same age as her, twelve, and it clearly rankled him to lose. “With that build you could’ve fooled me…”

It makes her realize Kotone is quite old to not be officially recognized as a kunoichi yet, especially considering her skill…Hashirama wonders if Kondoro has been using his influence to keep her out of the field for as long as he can. Hashirama certainly would understand if he was, considering she herself wished she could do the same for her brothers.

“Ah, thank you, I appreciate your kind words! I’ve worked hard to be the strongest I can be, despite only just now having the opportunity to test myself against the boys of the clan.” Kotone says, her perfect unassuming smile unaffected by the boy's taunts. “It’s such a relief to know I’m a match against shinobi who have been training and fighting far longer than I!”

“That’s not–” The boy huffs, rolling his eyes as he gives up in the face of the laughter of the girls behind her. 

Suzu-sensei puts a stop to the kunoichi’s laughter with a harsh glare, but it doesn’t stop the girls from enjoying the annoyance of the boys Kotone keeps beating. It makes Hashirama appreciate the girl’s skill all the more, considering how much of a disadvantage they all are for having been as restricted in their training as they are. 

It’s a stark reminder of just how privileged Hashirama has been in her own training. Although, for all that Hashirama appreciates the freedoms being a ‘boy’ and the Senju heir gives her, there are also plenty she could do without. Some things feel more like weighted responsibilities than freedoms, like the requirement to meet with the Daimyo once a year in his court of finery and flowery words…

As much as she enjoys seeing all the new people, sights and smells of the Yamashi city, she would give it all up if she could never again go to that den of vipers that they call the royal court. 

Hashirama had been shocked when she’d gone there on her very first mission protecting a merchant caravan. The sheer decadence of their multi-colored and layered robes, the richness of their meals, the opulence of the palace itself…not to mention the children just running about carefree, so young, so innocent. A child of the palace could be the same age as her, but in every other way besides physical age they were years younger. In truth even their physical age seemed stunted compared to Hashirama’s own youth, something she’d noticed occurred with the girls of the clan who hadn’t started training too. 

As a boy, Hashirama also must join her clan on missions far younger than the kunoichi of the clan do. Touka is the same age as her, and has never once left the compound. She won’t be required or allowed to go on missions until she’s at least eleven. 

“Waka-sama, why don’t you fight Kotone-chan next?” Shibuma suggests, and Hashirama nods, eager for a distraction from her thoughts. She’s been watching Kotone beat every boy she’s gone up against today. She’s eager to see if she’s good enough to beat Hashirama too.

Standing across from her in the center of the sparring ground, Hashirama takes in Kotone’s posture. She’s seen and interacted with her in the past, but always from a distance when she’s with Kondoro or Touka-nee.  Her pigtails and freckles and short stature make her look innocent and nonthreatening, but Hashirama has just watched her put four boys in a body lock in less time than it took to count to five. She’s the eldest of the group of the girls at twelve, and has only just begun to show the slight curves of puberty.

Hashirama makes the seal of confrontation as she wonders if she only has three years left before she herself begins to show the same curves. What will she do then? Wander around with a henge on all the time? Training constantly has likely pushed her own puberty back a little, but for how long?

“Begin!”

Just like Touka, Kotone flashes forward in a burst of motion, using speed to force Hashirama on the defense; this time Hashirama is ready for it and dodges out of the way, but only just barely.

She’s faster than Touka. Much faster. Hashirama thinks, and it makes sense really, since she’s three years older than them both. Hashirama is used to fighting with people older than her though, both in the field and in the sparring ring.

Fighting her is much harder than fighting Touka, even now that she’s had time to really dissect the kunoichi taijutsu style. She knows what to look for now, but unfortunately Kotone seems much better at recognizing what is a feign and what is a real attack, anticipating her movements quicker than Touka. It makes her think Kotone must have practiced fighting against her father, because she knows the Way of Roots weaknesses almost as well as Hashirama does.

She’s not taking the bait… Hashirama huffs as she just barely bends and twists in time to avoid being enclosed in Kotone’s constricting embrace. That seems to be her favorite finishing move, contorting her opponents into a knot that they can’t move their limbs out of without hurting themselves.

“Otou-san said you were one of the best in our age group, waka-sama…I can see he wasn’t lying~” Kotone coos, slapping her hand to the ground as she swings up to kick Hashirama in the chin. Hashirama grunts as it lands, trying to grab her ankle but missing as she swings away.

“Kondo-san said just the same about you.” Hashirama huffs on a laugh. Her counter attempt to hit Kotone in the face with her elbow slides off like water on a duck's back. “You’re better than some of the shinobi I’ve met in the field already!”

Surprisingly, that has her eyes narrowing and her ever present little smile dropping. She springs forward with even more speed, her attacks coming with more force.

“Uh, that was a compliment?” Hashirama says in confusion at Kotone’s sudden force. Hashirama yelps, ducking out of the way of a punch to the nose. “You seem angry!”

“Shut up and focus on this fight!” Kotone says, smile now more of a grimace.

“What, do you not want to enter the field?” Hashirama says in faux confusion, trying to taunt her. “I’m sure Kondo-san would put off your first mission for longer if you asked–”

As she thought they would, Hashirama’s words only seem to incense Kotone further. The usually calm girl’s face tenses in annoyance and anger—emotions that Hashirama is eager to take advantage of. Hashirama uses her momentary distraction to try and swipe her legs out from under her, but she just jumps over it in a neat front flip; in the next moment Hashirama stabs backwards with her elbow, only for Kotone to suddenly grab her arm and use it as the hinge from which to swing from. Her legs come up and wrap around her hard and fast enough to unbalance her, forcing Hashirama to wave her arms wildly to not fall backwards.

Shit.  

“Shut up! Otou-san already does not think I’m ready for the field, I do not need to reinforce that stupid belief.” Kotone hisses in her ear, “Even Suzu-sensei has approved it, yet he refuses to let me go on my first mission!” 

Kotone’s legs clench, hard enough that Hashirama has to reinforce her legs with chakra to keep them from buckling. 

A flash of inspiration hits her, and rather than stand firm and plant her feet deeper into the Roots stance, Hashirama changes tactics. She’s been watching the girls, Kotone in particular, fight for an hour now and she’s been watching their taijutsu style very closely. So closely in fact that Hashirama thinks she could even mimic a few of their moves…

So, deciding to throw caution to the wind and diverge from the Way of Roots taijutsu style, Hashirma throws herself into gravity rather than fighting against it. Her feet leave the ground entirely and she rockets backwards as both Kotone and her go airborn. She hears the breath get knocked from Kotone’s lungs as they hit and she’s pinned between Hashirama and the ground. 

Got you now, Hashirama thinks as Kotone’s legs loosen enough for her to turn to liquid in her grasp. Hashirama turns around and presses her hand to the throat of the girl beneath her in one smooth motion, a motion copied as best she can from Kotone’s own movements in previous spars. As soon as she does, however, it becomes clear that the momentary surprise is not enough to keep Kotone down for long. The other girls hand presses just so into Hashirama’s inner elbow, forcing it to buckle and the one on her neck to slip to the side. Kotone grasps Hashirama’s wrist in the other hand and, surprisingly, pulls her forward .

The older girl's foot makes contact with her stomach as Kotone launches Hashirama up and over her, forcing her to be the one to land hard on her back this time. In the next moment the older girl is atop her, twisting Hashirama’s wrist painfully as she wedges her knee right over her throat. All it would take is for Kotone to let her weight fall, and she’d irreparable crush Hashirama’s windpipe.

“I yield.” Hashirama laughs, smacking her free hand on the ground, her voice muffled against Kotone’s knee. She grins up at the red faced girl panting above her, glad that at least she gave her more difficulty than the rest of the clan boys. As Kotone lets up, Hashirama leans forward and whispers into her ear, “Maybe now that you’ve beaten me Kondo-san will change his mind.”

Kotone's smile returns at that, and she leans back and releases her wrist, making the seal of reconciliation as she does. “Maybe so. Good fight, waka-sama.”

“Just call me Hashirama-kun! Or at the very least, bocchan. I can’t hate being called waka-sama” Hashirama whispers conspiratorially. Kotone just pats her head like she’s a little kid and giggles.

“Maybe when there aren’t so many eyes around…” She whispers back, winking.

For some reason the older boys behind her all crow at that, and make weird kissy faces at Hashirama, which is just…gross, why? This was a spar . Ugh. It’s like everyone thinks a girl and boy can’t smile at one another without it being a crush. 

Hashirama leaves the sparring ring and returns to Shibuma’s side, watching Kotone return to the girls group with a proud smile on her face, letting someone else enter the ring. Kotone is definitely the best of the kunoichi with taijutsu, maybe even of their entire age group, despite never having been in the field like her sparring opponents had. With how talented she is Hashirama has no doubt it's through no fault of her own that she’s been kept off the field, but rather that Kondoro has prevented it, out of love for her. 

Sometimes (most times) she wishes that every parent in this world were like Kondoro. Maybe then they wouldn’t have kids dying quite so much. 

Still, what Hashirama said was true. Now that everyone has seen her beat Hashirama, the clan head’s heir and son, there’s no way Kondoro will be able to prevent her from getting her first mission. A sliver of guilt hits her at the knowledge, despite Kotone’s clear happiness at the idea.

Hashirama wonders if she’ll see Kotone in the field, maybe even run a mission with her. Kunoichi are rare to see on missions though, at least not the ones Hashirama has gone on…but then that’s the point isn’t it? 

They are to be seen and not heard, Hashirama hears Yano’s voice say in her mind . At the time that her mother figure had said that, Hashirama had assumed she meant in the literal sense of stealth. Assassins, subterfuge, sabotage and reconnaissance were all the purview of kunoichi after all.

Now though…Hashirama thinks she meant it in a broader sense.

The few times she has seen kunoichi on missions they were always treated slightly differently by their team lead than their shinobi teammates were…their opinions, their thoughts on the mission plan, were never asked for. Not to mention there were certainly no teaching moments for the younger kunoichi like there were for the younger boys. Granted girls are older when they enter the field, usually ten or eleven, but that’s not so old as to be without need of teaching just because they’re slightly older. 

And it’s the same here, in the sparring grounds. Hashirama has seen first hand how her peers treat the kunoichi in spars. Hashirama realizes now that despite her peers' frequent teasing of her ‘strange habits’ when it comes to peeing and bathing alone, she never felt like they didn’t take her seriously once she was in the ring with them. Not like they do with the girls. 

Even after Kotone’s spectacle of skill, each spar that comes and goes has the boys underestimating their girl opponents, hesitating over fear of hurting them, or refusing to hit them at all, often to their own detriment. 

They act like respect for a kunoichi means treating them like glass, Hashirama realizes, and thinks suddenly of Chiba and her doll-like appearance; always so pretty, so perfectly poised. But it’s all just a mask isn’t it? 

“Men see what they wish to see; kindness, a need for something soft and innocent in a world that is so often harsh and bloody…Kunoichi know this, see it, and use it to their advantage…”

Like water gliding over soil, they seek out the weakness, the cracks in the earth, and slowly wear it away, for better or worse. Sometimes a new stream is made, which brings water to droughted roots…and sometimes it simply splits the earth apart, until trees are ripped free, roots and all, and everything is destroyed in its path.

It’s powerful in its subtlety. 

The kunai that is seen only as a harmless bread knife is the one that is the most dangerous. Yano whispers in her mind.

“Waka-sama, that was an interesting move you pulled in the ring with Kotone-chan.” Shibuma says, taking a long puff of his pipe as he looks down at her. There’s a strange look in his eye as he watches her that makes her stomach squirm with nerves. “It certainly wasn’t anything Norito-sensei or I taught you..”

Hashirama scratches the back of her head with a nervous laugh, “Oh, no one taught me that I, um, I actually tried to copy the girls taijutsu with that move. It was just a spur of the moment sort of thing…”

“Oh?” Shibuma says with a raised brow, “Why would you do something like that?”

“Well they’re…they’re like water. The Way of Roots is a style planted in the earth, but earth is easily worn away under a stream…” Hashirama says to Shibuma, “I could tell I was going to lose unless I changed my form up, so I just improvised I guess.”

“Very astute, waka-sama.” Shibuma smiles, “The style they use is called the Rapid Fist. It is indeed often said to mimic the movements of a flooding river or stream.”

“Suzu-sensei teaches them different taijutsu than we use, then?”

“Of course. Taijutsu must serve its user, not the other way around.” Shibuma hums, “Women are naturally more flexible, and their opponents will likely be larger and stronger than them. So where they lack in strength they must make up for in speed and flexibility, and learn how to use their opponents' movement against them. In that sense I applaud your quick thinking in using her own form against her, but would caution against doing so in the field.”

Hashirama remembers watching Kotone wrap herself around Modoma, like a flood whose currents drag their victim under the water before they can take a breath. She thinks of her own struggles with taijutsu in the field, of how her opponents are often larger, and stronger than her. 

“Is such a form not helpful for us too, Shibuma-sensei? Most of my opponents are larger and stronger than me.”

Because I’m a child , Hashirama doesn’t say, although she’s thinking it. The thought of Tobirama or Kawaram in the field, a tiny child with an enemy thrice his age barring down on him, hits her in the throat with fear.

“This is true, but eventually you will not be. Boys grow tall and strong like the great cedar tree, and so we teach you the style that will suit you throughout your life, not just while you are a sapling.” 

So long as we get that old, Hashirama thinks to herself, surprised by the bitterness of the thought. She pushes it aside.

“Perhaps we could just learn both then?”

“In a fight, your body and mind must be as one. To divide it with two separate styles is to invite hesitation onto the battlefield. But yes, I understand your point, waka-sama. On the field you are vulnerable while so young.” Shibuma shakes his head, “Which is exactly why you and the other boys are never sent on missions alone. Our strength as Senju is our teamwork. We are a forest, not a lone tree, and we take care to shade the smallest of us so that they may grow to reach the sky as well.”

Hashirama’s eyes drift in the direction where Madoma sits now with his arm in a sling after visiting the healer, scrunching her nose at the boy. “Even Madoma?”

Shibuma chuckles. “Yes. Even Mado-kun. Even Norito-sensei. Even my younger brother Hondōma. We may have our differences of opinion, and he may dislike my backing of Butsuma as clan head, but in the end I would trust him to have my back in the field the same as any Senju.”

The sharp veer into clan politics surprises Hashirama, as does his bluntness. A distant memory comes to mind; that terrible dark night when she’d had a bone-knife at her throat for the simple desire to see her newborn brother, and the dark assumptions Chiba had thrown at her. Yano had called them cruel rumors spread by her uncle Takanoma to spread division within the clan’s loyalties but she’s always wondered… 

“...is chichi-ue a good clan head?” Hashirama asks. “I’ve heard—I mean mama-haha said something once…”

“Nevermind what you’ve heard.” Shibuma says gruffly, shaking his head as soon as Hashirama mentioned his step-mother. “Okugata-sama is a fine wife to Butsuma, and her sons are a treasure and a blessing, but she does not understand us . She is not a Senju by anything but marriage.” 

Hashirama’s mouth closes with a sharp click, wide eyed. She’s never heard anyone speak against her step-mother before, and finds herself speechless. As an Elder of the clan Shibuma would be one of the few who could speak so bluntly against the wife of the clan head publicly.

“But to answer your question…yes, your father is a good clan head.” Shibuma continues after a moment, “Far better than his father before him. As much as I loved my older brother, he was not meant for this way of life.”

Around them, Hashirama can see several of her fellow spectators have begun to listen to the conversation, including Suzu-sensei. Hashirama wonders if Shibuma hasn’t realized that they might parrot his disregard for the previous clan head around the clan, or if he just doesn’t care. Perhaps that’s simply what happens when you get old; you stop caring so much about what others think. 

“My anija was soft, you see. He disliked fighting beside his own shinobi, preferring instead to stay within the compound walls and read his novels. Not a bad thing to have in an older brother, but certainly a bad thing to have in a clan head.” Shibuma smiles sadly, “Worst of all, however, was that he put his personal desires over the well being of those he had sworn to protect; the very people of this clan.”

Shibuma hums to himself thoughtfully, and then laughs down at Hashirama. “Although, I suppose one of those personal desires resulted in the birth of your father and naming him his heir, so his decisions were not all bad.”

“I think half the clan might disagree with you there…” Hashirama mutters softly under her breath, looking towards Madoma and his grandmother Suzu, both of whom quickly look away when they make eye contact. They’re far enough away that they likely can’t hear every word they’re saying without some sort of chakra enhancement, but they can clearly hear enough to get a general idea of their conversation.

“Indeed, that is true. “ Shibuma sighs, eyes drifting towards them as well. “My youngest brother, Hondōma, and his wife Suzu-sensei among them, sadly. He’s always been quite the traditionalist when it comes to things relating the Senju bloodline. He wanted Butsuma named a Senjirou when he was born…” 

Just because chichi-ue was born out of wedlock? Hashirama thinks briefly with surprise.

“Once I had faith Hondōma would see reason with time…but it’s been almost ten years now, and still he backs Takanoma.” Shibuma continues, speaking quietly enough now that only Hashirama can hear. He sighs and shakes his head. “Your uncle is a fine boy, but he’s young and inexperienced, and not yet married. Butsuma has been a good clan head over the years, and has given the clan many legitimate heirs to uphold the line.”

Perhaps less heirs than you think, Hashirama thinks awkwardly, but nods all the same.

“Not to say your father is without his faults, of course.” Shibuma chuckles, glancing at Hashirama wryly as another boy falls victim to one of the girls limb wrenching defeat of their egos. He gestures towards the kunoichi sparring, whispering, “Chief amongst them is a propensity to be an immovable tree, where sometimes he should be the water trickling around its roots.”

“I yieellllddd~” The poor boy that’s currently beneath one of the taller girls cries. When she steps away he doesn't even bother getting up, just rolls to the side to lie out his limbs like wet noodles.

That brings Hashirama’s attention back to the sparring in front of her, not yet finished with her line of questioning about the Rapid Fist style.

“You said we shouldn’t learn both so we aren’t struck with indiscretion in the field but…why not combine them? The Way of Roots and Rapid Fist? Is it not possible?”

“Combine?” Shibuma says with a thoughtful look, about to speak only to be interrupted by a far less welcome teachers’ insights.

“Ah, you’re looking to learn the kunoichi taijutsu style, waka-sama?” The nasally voice of Senju Norito says from behind her. Hashirama sighs as she turns to find her old sensei smirking behind her, although she is glad to see her tired looking brothers. Some of the younger kids from Norito’s class are also there, all of them looking tired and dirty from a day of training.

“You should have said so earlier.” Norito simpered, “If I’d known you wished to join the kunoichi rather than the shinobi I could’ve made arrangements, waka-sama.”

Around them, with the fight done, many of the boys and girls snicker. Hashirama flushes, feeling vaguely betrayed by her own sex. She notes how neither of her brother’s laugh though, and takes some solace in that at least.

“I didn’t say that, Norito-sensei. I was just…curious about if the two taijutsu styles could be combined to create something new.” She says, turning again to a still thoughtful looking Shibuma. “Jutsu’s can be combined to create new ones can’t they?”

“Hmmm, yes, although it’s exceedingly difficult to combine jutsu’s of different elements.” The old man says, “Taijutsu styles are much the same. Many new styles have been created through such experimentation, but if the Way of Streams is water, the Way of Roots is earth; one meant to be quick and evasive, the other meant to be sturdy and powerful. Rarely with two styles so uniquely opposite, and even if one did…I would bet that such an unusual style would not be used often.”

Well. I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge. Hashirama thinks to herself. Or a bet.

“First however, you should focus on perfecting the basics of the taijutsu you already know.” Norito says, for once saying something that’s actually helpful. “...before you go and start learning to fight like a woman, that is.”

Right. There it is. There’s a reason that Hashirama was not surprised when she found out Norito was Madoma’s father.

“It’s not like fighting like a woman is a bad thing.” Hashirama can’t help but say, making a few girls look up in surprise, “If it were then your own son would probably still be in the ring, not sitting on the sidelines with his arm in a sling.”

Norito scowls as Shibuma huffs his old man wheeze of a laugh. Tobirama looks distinctly surprised as his teacher’s mouth gapes open and then closed again, struck speechless, while Kawarama just giggles.

“Yes, well…” Norito says between gritted teeth. “Everyone gets lucky sometimes.”

Hashirama rolls her eyes and then turns seriously to her little brothers, “Exactly, Tobi-kun, Kawa-kun, you should remember that! Everyone gets lucky sometimes, girl or boy; so you should never let your guard down…and certainly never underestimate your opponent. You don’t want to be like Madoma after all, letting his pride get the best of him. In the field you’ll be lucky if it’s just the healers.”

“Hey!” Madoma calls from the sidelines, but its stopped from approaching and doing something stupid by his grandmother’s hand on his shoulder. He scowls as he kicks at the dirt, but Hashirama ignores him; she only has eyes for her brother’s.

Tobirama’s red eyes widen, and it might be Hashirama’s imagination but she thinks she sees a hint of admiration flicker in his expression as he nods. That’d be a first for her grumpy little brother, always rolling his eyes at Hashirama and calling her dumb. Kawarama on the other hand always takes everything she says seriously, that hero worship in his eyes never leaving.

As Shibuma brings their training session to an end, the assembled kids begin to group together to head to their respective homes. Hashirama fluffs Tobirama’s hair affectionately as they head towards the main house, just to bring his usual grumpy look back, oddly finding she misses it. Kawarama quickly demands his own sandy blond hair be ruffled too, and she roughs it up extra hard to hear him laugh.

“Will you…walk us to training tomorrow, onii-san?” Tobirama says, and Hashirama freezes as she looks at him with wide eyes.

“Wh-what did you say?”

Tobirama huffs and crosses his arms, “...You heard me. I’m not saying it again.”

Hashirama’s eyes fill with tears, “T-tobi-kun!!”

Tobirama puts a hand up, holding her crying face away from his as she tries valiantly to squish him and Kawarama both into a hug. “Agh! I’m never calling you that again if this is how you react, anija!”

“Nooo~! Tobi-kun, stop running from me and let me hug you!”

Chapter Text

Hashirama grins as she runs off to her favorite ‘secret’ training spot after a long day of practice with Elder Shibuma. Her hideaway is hidden in the base of an ancient camphor tree, whose trunk is so large it could probably fit a house in it. Her clan considers it sacred, which is why no one comes this way except for festivals or to give offerings to the gods. 

Hashirama isn’t really sure how she found the sanctuary, but one day she’d just…wandered here, and found the hole hidden in the camphor’s massive roots, likely dug by some of the local burrowing animals; a hole that an adult couldn’t hope to fit into. She crawls through the tiny tunnel now with ease, until she reaches the other side, where a cave lies buried deep within the ground, far from prying eyes.

She lights the candles she’d put out months ago with a quick flicker of fire chakra—her least favorite element, but certainly useful for things like this—and the damp cave lights from within. Above her the ceiling glimmers with shards of crystals hidden in the earth and Hashirama takes a moment to appreciate their beauty, before she excitedly pulls out the scroll she’d drawn up months ago when the boys had first sparred against the girls. 

It’d taken her half an hour to draw up the half remembered forms of the Rapid Fist she’d seen, and even then her drawings had come out terribly. Whenever Hashirama opens the scroll she has to laugh at the stick-like figures. Carefully she draws out another form next to them, a move she’d seen Touka do in their most recent spar. The girls hadn’t joined Elder Shibuma’s group again since the first time six months ago, but at least now Hashirama and Touka can spar without Yano or Suzu-sensei admonishing them.

Good enough , Hashirama shrug at her terrible drawing, and after studying the forms she begins to move her body through them. 

Of course, she hadn’t watched the girls or Touka when they were practicing their katas but rather in action, during sparring, so the moves she is copying don’t flow well together as she goes through them. After an hour of trying different combinations to determine the sequence of katas that would flow like water, Hashirama gives up.

She doesn’t want to, but she has to admit Norito probably has a point about perfecting the Way of Roots first before she learns another style…not to mention start combining them.

…But that’s boring, so she’s gonna ignore it and keep trying.

“Ugh, why is this so haaaard.” She whines as she slumps backwards onto the cool ground in annoyance. “They made it look so easy…if only I could watch them go through the forms one by one, not just in a spar—”

Hashirama stops, eyes squinting. She could see them go through their forms couldn't she? All she has to do is sneak into one of the kunoichi lessons. Plans swirl in her mind.

She doesn’t know where they hold kunoichi training. There must be a dojo somewhere in the compound right? Maybe even a training ground she doesn’t know about. She’ll have to follow Touka when she goes to her next practice, it’s the only way! Asking Yano will be too suspicious, and she can’t have them on high alert thinking a ‘boy’ is going to sneak into their (very secretive) training sessions.

“Why does kunoichi training have to be so secretive anyways.” Hashirama huffs, but then rolls her eyes as she answers her own question. “Right. Kunai, bread knife, dangerous. Blah, blah.”

–

She leaves the cave that night all the more determined to learn Rapid Fist and incorporate it into the Roots taijutsu style, despite her repeated failure. It’s been six months and she doesn’t feel any closer to using Rapid Fist for more than a few quick moves here and there. It also doesn’t help that she’s only been practicing by herself, rather than in a spar. Elder Shibuma and Norito had both made it very clear that attempting to mimic the kunoichi’s taijutsu would be improper for a shinobi. At first Hashirama had wanted to try and practice with Touka, who surely wouldn’t judge her for trying to learn it, but the public sparring grounds weren’t private enough…so for the past six months she’s been caught in a bit of a rut with her training. Now though, she has a plan, and a plan always makes her feel more focused! 

–

Step One: reconnaissance. 

Touka is a slippery little thing when she wants to be. Hashirama squints around the rice storage building, trying to find Touka’s beige kimono amongst the passing Senjirou clan members milling about. She doesn’t even know how she ended up here in the cadet branch quarters…keeping up with Touka without being seen had taken nearly all her concentration, and she hadn’t even realized when they’d left the more shaded hilltop area where most of the main Senju family homes lived.

Hashirama walked casually forward down the street as an old woman eyes her nervously, realizing she looks quite suspicious skulking about the rice house still dressed in her armor. She’d just gotten back from a simple guard mission when she’d just happened to see Touka on her way to training, and decided to forgo her usual post-mission brother brothering in favor of stalking her friend.

It seems she’s had another failure though, as she walks the pathway dotted with humble Senjirou homes, spying no further sign of Touka. It’s been three weeks, and Hashirama has consistently failed to tail Touka to the hidden kunoichi dojo. It’s almost enough to make a girl get a complex. A stealth complex.

“I’ll just try again tomorrow!” Hashirama says, pumping her fist to dispel the lingering feelings of inadequacy. She turns to head home, her mission failed for the day, only to freeze mid step as she comes face to face with Touka herself.

“You’ll try what again tomorrow?” The frowning girl says, one pointy eyebrow raised.

“Uh…” Hashirama sweats, looking around nervously for a distraction she can use to escape. Her eyes land on a fat cat lounging in the shade cast by a nearby building. “Oh look, wow that cat looks just like Shibō-chan—you remember him, Touka-nee—I’ve been looking for cat’s that might be descended from the, um, great like Shibō, you see and—”

Touka sighs, crossing her arms and giving Hashirama a dangerous look that stops her in her tracks.

“Tell me what you’re doing now or I’ll tell your brother you’ve been watching him sleep when he falls asleep after training.”

“-- Ack, ” Hashirama squawks, “I-I don’t know what you’re–”

“Right.” Touka says with a click of her tongue as she turns on her heel. “I think Tobirama should be heading home from Norito-sensei’s class right about now…”

“No! Touka-sama—no, kami-sama— please, be kind to this poor mortal and do not do that. ” Hashirama staggers forward, grasping Touka’s shoulders as she bows to her with tears streaming down her face. “I swear, kami-sama, it’s nothing ne-nefari–whatever, it’s nothing bad!”

“Nefarious. Also, stop calling me kami-sama.” She corrects blankly, “Are you skipping your language lessons with okaa-san again?”

Again Hashirama sweats, eyes going desperately to find the now missing cat. “Oh no, Shibō-junior seems to have escaped–”

“That’s a yes.” Touka sighs, “Just tell me what you’re doing. I’m late as it is.”

“Alright, alright!” Hashirama gives in, looking around. “But…not here. Can you meet me behind Fuku-kun?”

“Fuku–you mean…the great camphor tree?” Touka says after a moment, her eyebrows furrowing deeper than usual, “Fukuki-sama?”

“Yeah, yeah that one. Fuku-kun is much cuter sounding though.”

“That seems sacrilegious.” 

“I…don’t know what that word means, but sure!” Hashirama says with a grin and thumbs up.

Touka sighs again, but Hashirama can tell she’s going to give in when she rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’ll meet you there after my lessons, exactly at sunset! Don’t be late.”

Hashirama bows, “Yes, kami-sama!”

“Ugh.”

–

“...You’re trying to do what now.” Touka blinks, staring around the glittering cave with wide eyes. “Also…how did you find this place again?”

“I’m trying to learn Rapid Fist!” Hashirama repeats cheerily. “And um…I don’t know, I just did?”

Touka’s head whips rapidly back and forth, and Hashirama for once can see an expression other than seriousness on her older (only by a few months, Touka-nee! Stop calling me a kid–) best friend. Touka looks…in awe. Hashirama gets that, her cave is pretty awesome after all!

“It's beautiful…but how have I never once heard of it?” Touka says wonderingly, “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but in kunoichi lessons we’re allowed access to all the Senju private archives…and you know how I love to read. I’ve never found any mention of a hidden cave full of crystals. The Senju have lived on this land for fifty years now, and this tree has been there since we built the main house. How could this place never have been discovered? ”

Hashirama shrugs, digging her pinky into her ear with disinterest. She’s never cared much for the Senju clan history lessons. “Well you know adults, all boring and stuff…maybe they just didn’t write it down cuz they didn’t think it was cool enough.”

“Maybe I just haven’t come across it yet.” Touka frowns, ignoring her. “I’ll have to look for any mention of it next time…”

“Right, yeah, anyways you’re getting distracted Touka-nee!” Hashirama snaps her fingers. “Rapid Fist! Learning it! How can I get into those kunoichi classes?”

“By being a girl, I suppose.” Touka says seriously.

“Nee-chaaaan, please for once can you not be such a stickler for the rules?” Hashirama whines, “Why does the Rapid Fist have to be just for the girls anyways?”

“I mean it doesn’t, but—”

“Exactly, this could help the clan! Think of how much help it’d be if I could come up with a way to combine the two styles! So just help me get into—”

“No, Hashirama, I’m not being facetious–” 

“Being what now.”

“...I meant what I said, exactly how I said it.” Touka says deliberately, hand whipping out and grabbing the neckline of Hashirama’s jacket. “You have to be a girl. ”

Touka’s eyes purposefully glance down to where the tiny seal of reinforcement is hidden in the neckline of Hashirama’s hippari jacket. Hashirama looks down at it, looks back up, looks back down, and then suddenly her eyes widen.

“There’s a seal on my clothes that keeps me from entering?”

“No!” Touka sighs, “There’s a seal on the dojo to keep anyone who isn’t a girl from entering! Idiot…”

“Ooooh…” Hashirama says, laughing. “Right, that makes sense…so like a genjutsu?” 

Touka nods, “Exactly. If you aren’t a girl, the seal activates and an illusion of a dead end path is shown. Apparently, it was something Uzumaki Mino created just for the Senju. A dowry of sorts.”

Hashirama blinks in surprise at that, murmuring, “My mother did?”

Touka nodded, “Suzu-sensei talks about her sometimes…she always said she was a great help to the kunoichi of our clan while she was still alive. But that’s besides the point, you can’t follow me to my training without breaking that seal. As soon as you do, Suzu-sensei will know, so it’ll be pointless.”

But…I am a girl. Hashirama thinks, only just refraining from saying it aloud. She eyes her friend with frustration. She knows Yano told her not to, not even to Touka but…would it really be so bad? Touka is her sister in all but blood, the best and only girl friend she has…maybe just her only friend period, really. The other boys of the clan train with her and joke around, but her status as heir is always a wedge between them…not to mention the ones who follow Madoma around and parrot his dislike of her.

She shakes her head, fear staying her tongue. After all, while she has no doubt that Touka would keep her secret, who’s to say it wouldn’t change their relationship somehow? Would she see Hashirama differently, knowing she’d lied her whole life about who she is?

“Is that why you would always disappear when I was following you?” Hashirama asks tentatively, trying to understand just why this ‘seal’ didn’t recognize her as a girl.

“Oh, no.” Touka scoffs, “That was just because you’re terrible at stealth. It was almost too easy to lose you.”

“Wha–hey! I’m not that bad!”

“Yes. Yes you are.”

“Well, y'know what, it was almost too easy to beat you in a spar!” Hashirama sticks her tongue out at her, “So there.”

Touka gasps, “You take that back!”

“Only if you show me the entrance.” Hashirama says easily with a grin.

“You’re not going to let this go are you.” Touka huffs.

“Well…” Hashirama drawls, “I mean, not unless you would show me the Rapid Fist forms?”

At that Touka hesitates, looking torn. “I…I assume you’re intending on using Rapid Fist in the field right?”

“Of course! What’s the point in learning it otherwise?” Hashirama responds brightly, and watches with confusing as Touka’s face shutters.

“If you start using Rapid Fist in front of other’s it won’t take long for them to realizes it was me who taught you.” Touka says with a shake of her head. “Kunoichi have a strict code, Hashirama, we don’t teach shinobi our secrets.”

Frustration has unsaid truths burning in Hashirama’s throat, and she only just manages to keep them down. 

“Fine. Then if you won’t teach me, you have to help me get in to your lessons so I can teach myself!”

“I don’t have to do anything!” Touka says with a disbelieving laugh. “You’re already a shinobi Hashirama! You have all the resources in the entire clan at your disposal, so why are you doing this? Are you trying to make fun of us? Is that it?”

“What? No! I’m just–”

 “‘Look how easy it is to sneak into the girls lessons, look how silly their training is.’” Touka says with a mocking undertone, “Is that what you want? You want to prove how much simpler our taijutsu is, how much weaker?”

“No!” Hashirama shouts, leaning forward to grab at Touka’s hand. Her friend tenses and Hashirama feels at a sudden loss on how to fix the situation, thrown off balance by the sudden flip in conversation. “I just want to learn everything I can—”

“You have Elder Shibuma teaching you every day you’re in the village, and Kondoro-san guiding you in the field; why do you need to learn kunoichi secrets too?” Touka says, her eyes going hard as she rips her wrist from Hashirama’s grip. “Can’t you just let me have this one thing?!”

Hashirama stops short, gaping at Touka who is panting slightly from her sudden barrage of words. She’s seen Touka angry before, but never like this . This is different than the pouty annoyance over Hashirama stealing her dumpling at dinner, or her shouted threats when Hashirama painted a faux mustache on her face one night when she fell asleep early. 

No, this time, Touka’s anger is filled with a layer of hurt, an anger that almost seems helpless and directionless. Hashirama swallows thickly, recognizing the emotion for one she’s been feeling more and more lately, often while watching her father smiling at her brothers, or when she thinks of Tobirama taking her place as heir. 

Touka’s…jealous of her. 

The realization is surprising, but it shouldn’t be. Suddenly Hashirama sees every time Touka harped on about propriety and rules in a different light; how much of Touka’s annoyance back then was simply because Hashirama always got away with things she didn’t, simply for being a ‘boy’? And she’s right too…Hashirama does have all the clan’s resources at her fingertips, all of them except kunoichi lessons. Guilt eats at her, as she looks back at her own actions, how selfish and childish she must have seemed, stalking Touka like it was some sort of game . 

“I…I didn’t mean it like that.” Is all Hashirama can say, trying desperately to find some way to explain herself that doesn’t come off as dismissive. Again she gets that intense need to tell Touka the truth, the only thing staying her tongue being the sheer fact that she’s simply never told anyone. Hashirama isn’t even sure how she would tell someone what she really is, how she would even get them to believe her. Sometimes she even finds it hard to believe, despite seeing the truth beneath her clothes everyday. 

She’s lived a lie so long…she’s  not sure she knows how to live truthfully. The words stick in her throat, and as she takes a deep breath she looks away from Touka with a sigh.

“I’m not trying to steal kunoichi secrets.” Hashirama finally says, as gently as she can. “I just thought it would be helpful to know a taijutsu style meant for fighting opponents stronger and larger than you, considering it’s all I seem to do…and you’re right, I do have plenty of options to learn but…in real life, in the field, I need any possible advantage I can get. ”

Touka looks away, something like guilt warring with annoyance on her features. Hashirama tries desperately to find something else to say that could make things better, but her mouth opens and closes on nothing. Touka turns her back on her and Hashirama reaches out tentatively to touch her arm, but stops at the last moment.

“Fine. But only if you give this stupid idea up if you can’t do it.” 

Hashirama startles, looking up hopefully. Touka looks at her over her shoulder with a huff.

“Really?”

“I mean…I’ll bring you to the general area.” Touka says with a frown, “There’s not technically any rules against someone walking me around the village after all…once you’re there though, the seal won’t let you see the door and like I said, disrupting the genjutsu will alert Suzu-sensei.”

“Just leave that to me!” Hashirama snorts at Touka’s disbelieving look. “Trust me, it won’t be a problem.”

“And you’ll give up on Rapid Palm if you fail?”

Hashirama holds out her pinky finger with a cheeky grin, “Pinky swear.”

“If you say so…” Touka gives her a strange look, but links her pinky with Hashirama’s all the same. “...but don’t blame it on me when Suzu-sensei eviscerates you.”

–

Step One: reconnaissance (revised)

Touka brings her to the location of the secret doorway the next day, a section of the residential area of the compound where only the Senjirou who do trade work live. Most of them never made much of themselves in the clan as shinobi, and instead dedicated themselves to a craft that would benefit the clan instead. Hashirama supposes it makes sense that’s where the kunoichi dojo is, after all if the seal casts a genjutsu on the area it would set most better trained shinobi on high alert if they noticed it. She’s sure if it was up near the main house then the seal would be disrupted left and right by paranoid shinobi.

“Well. This is as far as I can take you.” Touka says, stopping at an intersection. “I won’t say good luck but I suppose…don’t get caught?”

Hashirama gives her a jaunty bow, “Thank you kami-sama. I promise to make you proud.”

“I swear…” Touka sighs, “I brought you here, so stop calling me that!”

Hashirama nods cheekily, but in her mind she’s screaming, But how can I when it’s one of the few things that actually gets a rise from you?!

She lets Touka leave her sight before she slinks into a nearby alleyway to figure out how she’s going to find this door. She can’t follow her directly without getting Touka in trouble, and it’s not like she could just go around opening random doors in the hopes it’s the one that would otherwise be hidden by the seal for a boy. That’d be far too suspicious…and what if she walked in on someone dressing?! No, no way she’s doing that.

Hashirama closes her eyes as she thinks, throwing out her senses to listen to the energy of the trees and wind and buildings around her. Her range is still small, and likely wouldn’t expand much, but she can still feel the usual ‘absence’ that is Touka as she turns a corner. Or she could feel her nearby…before she suddenly disappears . And not the sort of ‘disappears’ that comes with leaving her range, no, this was a ‘cease to exist’ sort where even the buzz of the wind's chakra around her blinked out of existence.

If Hashirama were a real sensor nin she supposes that’s what it must feel like when someone suppresses their chakra, only instead of making them less noticeable it seems to have just drawn more attention to the area. Two streets down and around the corner there’s a massive black hole of nothingness. Hashirama can’t hear anything there, not even the tiniest hum of a little bug or the whisper of wind through a tree’s leaves. 

There’s just…nothing.

Gotcha .

–

Step Two: Infiltration

Hashirama finds the door, an unassuming gate in a narrow alleyway that is surrounded on either side by high walls. She considers just opening the door and entering, before she notes the keyhole that suggests it’s likely to be locked; which makes sense considering there are plenty of women in this area that are not kunoichi but would still be able to see the door.

Next Hashirama considers the plastered field stone walls which stand just a few feet over her head. She can see the green tips of leaves above its top, and marvels at how strange it is to see a tree and not be able to feel it . She really doesn’t like whatever ‘black hole of nothingness’ effect that seal has on everything beyond the door, she decides. 

Hmmm. Is it too simple a solution to climb over the wall onto the tree?

Throwing caution to the wind, Hashirama does exactly that, channeling chakra to her feet to climb the wall and carefully peek over the top. Inside the walls is a large open courtyard, with a building on its westernmost side that seems to be set up as a dojo. Hashirama grins when she sees Touka there through the open shoji, thanking her lucky stars that it’s a nice enough day that they’d decided to keep the doors open. 

Her position perched on the wall is rather precarious, and not exactly…hidden. So Hashirama quickly flips over the top to land quietly on the— too thin move to another— branch of the tree right beside the wall. Instantly the void of nothingness is filled by the hum of chakra that Hashirama is used to, right down to the underlying duo-toned song that is the energy in the trees and the plants in the courtyard. 

She opens her eyes, the wrongness lifting with her senses returned, and notes that she can now also hear a koto being played from the dojo, as well as Suzu’s firm voice, calling out corrections to the girl's form to the rhythm of its notes.

Making sure her own chakra is suppressed down to the size of a pea, Hashirama watches for awhile, admiring the smooth quick movements of Rapid Fist. She notes that Kotone isn’t there, but that isn’t surprising considering the rumors she’d been sent out on her first mission. Then, Hashirama pulls out her brush, scroll, and inkstone and she gets to work.

–

Step Three: Escape

Hashirama spends an few hours crouched in that tree, watching as the girls of her clan go through katas slowly and repetitively, until they’re near perfect. After she finishes copying down the katas as best she can in stick person form, Hashirama should leave…but she doesn’t. She finds herself instead struck still, mesmerized by their movements.

Kata’s have always seemed like a form of dance to her, but never so much as with the Rapid Fist. There’s something so elegant yet dangerous about it’s slow then quick and agile movements. It reminds her of the one and only time that Hashirama had run into a Hyuuga on a mission…thankfully one who had a common enemy with their team. And seeing what that kunoichi did to their opponent, Hashirama is very glad that she’s never been on the opposite side of their taijutsu.

But as much as she likes watching their water-like movements, the sun is growing low in the sky and Hashirama has a language lesson to skip in favor of her crystal hideaway. Carefully, she unfurls her stiff limbs from her crouch in the boughs of the tree, and stores away her scroll in the hidden seal on her kunai pouch. She looks behind her for the wall she’d climbed to reach the tree, and carefully makes her way onto the closest branch to the wall– 

Cree~eak

“Oh no.” Hashirama whispers, right before the— too thin move to another one— branch snaps under her feet.

She falls with a crash loud enough to alert everyone in the whole damn compound. Inside the dojo she hears the koto pluck an abrupt stop, and realizes with a horrified jolt that she’s still in the walled enclosure.

Panic laces through her.

You have to be a girl. Touka had said. You have to be a girl to see the door and get in.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no—

“Waka-sama?!” 

“S-suzu-sensei…” Hashirama says with a bashful rub to the back of her head. “I…can explain?”

She tries to pull herself up on her elbows, but is stopped by a sudden shooting pain and yelps. Hashirama turns to follow Suzu-sensei’s wide gaze down to her right arm and feels suddenly nauseous at the sight that greets her.

Her forearm is bloody, her wrist at an unnatural angle, and a white bone pokes out of her skin. Fuck. 

“Although…maybe I can see Tadashi-sensei first before explaining.” Hashirama says faintly, as several of the younger kunoichi turn to throw up in the bushes.

—

Not an hour later, Hashirama sits sweating beside a shame-faced Touka right outside her father’s receiving rooms. Her arm aches in the cast and sling Tadashi had put it in, and Hashirama is already dreading the dressing down she’ll get from Yano when she sees it. It’s not the first time she’s come back home injured, but it will be the first time she’s broken something for as stupid a reason as falling from a tree. 

But for now, she has a worse fate to dread. Her father and Suzu-sensei are speaking in his office, and she and Touka await their fates just outside the door. Inside she can hear Suzu raging, in a calm polite way of course, that Hashirama had—

“—violated the sacred space of the kunoichi dojo! Clan head’s son or not, I will not have boys peeping on my girls. Oyakata-sama, I implore you, for the and balance between our clan’s shinobi and kunoichi to be restored, waka-sama must be punished accordingly!” Suzu says, her voice finally raising to a near shout as she grows more heated. 

Peeping? Peeping?! Hashirama thinks wildly, looking over at a hunched Touka and whispering. “I wasn’t peeping!! ”

“Be quiet!” Touka hisses from the side of her clenched teeth, not looking at her. Hashirama tunes back into the muffled conversation they can just barely hear through the door with a pout.

“—and beyond that, I want the girl, Touka, to be expelled from kunoichi training henceforth.”

Hashirama freezes, breath lodging in her throat.

“Ah, are you sure Suzu-sensei? It would be unfortunate to lose the child of Yano the knife. I’ve heard she’s shaping up to be as talented as her mother.” Hashirama hears her father say, although her ears are ringing from panic. “Perhaps there’s another solution we can find to satisfy you?”

“No. There’s no way thay waka-sama could have found our dojo without her help, not without alerting me when he broke the genjutsu around it.”

“You said he was found in a tree. Perhaps he simply climbed the wall out of curiosity?”

“Respectfully, Oyakata-sama, the genjutsu is expertly crafted, and in the middle the residential area of our least trained cadet branch members. There was nothing to be curious about , not unless someone brought him there and he noticed the genjutsu…but he did not break it so I must assume he did not.” She says on a sigh, “But even if he had climbed to see over the walls out of curiosity as Oyakata-sama says, he would only have seen a courtyard full of laundry, nothing interesting. The girl must have let him in herself. It’s the only way for a boy to enter without alerting me.”

“I see…” Butsuma says slowly. “Your logic is sound. I will defer to your judgment on your own students. The girl will be prohibited from kunoichi training, including mentorship within the field.”

Hashirama flinches, raising up just slightly on her knees, but Touka’s hand clamping down on her wrist stops her. 

“Don’t.” She whispers in a squeek. “It’ll just make it worse.”

“But…but she’s going to prevent you from being a kunoichi!” Hashirama whispers passionately, tears burning her eyes. “And it’s my fault . I have to fix this!”

“Thank you, Oyakata-sama. I know it seems extreme, but the girl violated something even more sacred than waka-sama did,” Suzu says severely, and Hashirama feels Touka flinch against her. “She violated the sacred oath all kunoichi students make to keep our ways and meeting places a secret– ”

“Touka-nee didn’t violate anything!” Hashirama says, barging in through the shoji doors to her father’s office. Suzu jolts, turning to look over her shoulder, while her father only glares daggers from his place behind his desk.

“Hashirama! I told you to remain outside–”

“No! I have to fix this. Suzu-sensei I swear it was all me, Touka-nee didn’t tell me anything!” Hashirama swore, “I followed her there, and I snuck into the kunoichi training area all on my own!”

“Hashirama!” Her father’s voice is almost as loud as his fist slamming down on the desk in front of him. 

It’s a powerful noise that’s accompanied by a sharp spike of his anger filled chakra that has Suzu gasping into stillness, and Hashirama and Touka both whimpering. 

“Sit. Down.” Butsuma says sharply, but he needn’t have bothered. Hashirama’s knees buckled underneath her at the first press of his killing intent, and she carefully shuffles forward to be in front of his desk when he gestures her to.

Suzu clears her throat, breaking the tense silence. “Oyakata-sama…I will…take my leave now.”

Hashirama twitches, digging her teeth into her long hard enough that blood fills her mouth and the pain breaks her body from the fear based freeze response. 

“Wait!” She bows low, directly in Suzu’s path to the door and before her father can stop her, begins to beg. “Wait, Suzu-sensei, please believe me! Touka-nee really didn’t violate her sacred oath. I’m telling the truth!”

Suzu tuts, “Waka-sama…while I admire your loyalty to your friend, it’s misguided…and also a rather bad lie. And I do not appreciate liars.”

“But it’s not–”

“As I told Oyakata-sama, only a woman may see the door without breaking the genjutsu–”

“Yes, and like my father said, I really did climb the wall because I was curious, that’s all!” Hashirama says quickly. She’s never been a good liar, but this isn’t a lie is it? She really was just curious. She could do this. She just needed to stick to the almost truth. “I followed Touka-nee to the Senjirou sector, but then she suddenly just…disappeared, just like the last few times I tried to follow her.”

“ Hashirama–” Butsuma admonishes, and she flinches as her father leans up onto his knees as if to grab her and pull her from Suzu. However, as he goes to do so Suzu holds a hand out, stopping him.

“ Last few times? ” Suzu demands, clearly shocked. 

“Yes, but like I said Touka-nee disappeared! But I noticed it wasn’t a… normal disappearing, if that makes sense. It was…weird? I guess?” Hashiraama says, and when she looks up she’s heartened to see Suzu beginning to actually listen to him. “It was like there was suddenly nothing there, not even a mouse or a tree…like when the forest is suddenly too quiet, so instead of being peaceful it just makes your hair stand on end.”

“...I suppose that’s one way to put it. The genjutsu hides the chakra signatures of all inside it by projecting a false sensory output that there is no one there but a few nondescript cadet branch members.” Suzu confirms.

Hashirama shakes her head. “Yeah, but I can’t sense chakra so it just felt like nothing to me. And that’s it. There’s nothing else. No grass, no rocks, not even air. See what I mean?”

Suzu and her father both share a glance that almost seems confused, before turning back to stare at her expectantly. Is what she’s just said not enough explain exactly how she found the dojo? She’s always assumed that the way she senses chakra is a bit strange, since she can never sense people, but surely it at least makes sense to them? Clearly she needs to explain it more specifically. 

“...I mean there was no hmmmm of trees, or the dut dut dut of the rocks, of the wooOoo of the wind; there was nothing. ” Hashirama says pointedly, using her hands to mimic the feeling of the different energies along with her best approximation of how they sound. “So I just went to the edge of the nothingness, and that's when I saw the tree. It confirmed that something was off—the tree was there but I couldn’t feel its chakra . That’s why I climbed the wall to get closer to it, and once I was in the tree I could see the kunoichi dojo. I guess once I was in the walls the seal didn’t work?”

“That’s–” Suzu blinks rapidly, looking confused, “That’s true, once you’re within the walls the seal no longer projects the genjutsu, which is why I’d assumed that Touka must have brought you inside…but…waka-sama what you’re saying doesn’t make sense.”

Hashirama looks at her and then her father in confusion. “What do you mean? What doesn’t make sense?”

“Are you saying the reason you found the dojo is because you couldn’t hear the trees?” Butsuma says with a glint in his eyes, “Is that a failing of the genjutsu perhaps, Suzu-sensei?”

Suzu sensei shakes her head, “No, Oyakata-sama, Mito-sama’s genjutsu seal is immaculate. It’s even fooled Kondoro-san before. Nothing as simple as a the sound of a tree rustling in the breeze would have been missed—”

“No, no it isn’t the literal sound.” Hashirama huffs, grabbing her hair in frustration. “I mean it in the way of chakra sensing! Norito-sensei said that everyone senses it differently, and I guess the way I sense it is through sound. Sort of.”

“But your teachers have all reported that you have little talent as a sensory-nin.” Butsuma muses, and Hashirama flinches at that. “Did you lie to them?”

“No, no I just…I don’t sense people, that’s all, so I always did kinda bad during those tests.” Hashirama huffs, nervously squirming as she tries to put her ability into words that make sense. “But I can sense…everything else? So I can usually find people by the way they, I don’t know, aren’t the wind or something? It’s hard though…”

“Waka-sama…” Suzu starts slowly, glancing at Butsuma before she continues. “The thing you’re describing, the feel of the wind and the trees and such…that is natural energy, not chakra.”

“Oh. Okay?” 

“Outside of myths and legends, such as the Sage of Six Paths, no one has ever reported being able to feel natural energy .” Butsuma says, “If this is another one of your jests, I would have it end now.”

The sage?! Hashirama doesn’t know what to say to that, other than that she’s not lying of course. “I’m not lying…I’ve always been able to feel the trees, and the water, and the rocks. They feel different from each other even. Every type of flower is unique, just like people are.”

There’s a long moment of tense silence then, and Butsuma and Suzu-sensei both share another one of those looks that Hashirama doesn’t know how to quite interpret. 

“Stay here.” Her father says suddenly. He gets up, passing Suzu and Hashirama, and then Touka when he leaves through the door. Hashirama glances to the side at Suzu who looks like she’s stuck between curiosity and anger.

The silence is heavy and awkward, and the few minutes that her father is gone feel like an eternity. Hashirama can hear Touka breathing behind the shoji doors, and focuses on the familiar calming presence to regulate her own panicked breaths.

Finally, Butsuma returns and sits back in his rightful place in front of them. He looks at Hashirama with a deadly serious face that has sweat prickling at the back of her neck. “What do I have in my pocket? If you can tell me, I’ll believe your story and alleviate Touka of any guilt.” 

Hashirama’s eyes widen in hope, before she immediately clenches them closed and throws her senses out. Now that her father points it out, Hashirama can feel a difference between the energy she feels in nature and the chakra she feels within her own body. She can’t feel others chakra to compare but her own chakra is…controlled. Even when she is at her most emotional, like right now, chakra moves in a consistent pattern . It flows from the heart, through the body's pathways, keeping the lungs breathing and the blood pumping and the mind working.

Everything else however, the air she breathes, the wood of her father’s desk, even the reeds of the tatami beneath her feet…it’s chaos. 

It hums, it clicks, it moves slow then quick, backwards then forwards. The wood is dual toned, high and low, with a muted sad quality to it, as if it’s missing the rest of the tree that created it. The tatami zings like a grasshopper’s jump, energy flowing like little static charges through every strand of bound reed. The air whistles, gasps, giggles, always in a place you do not expect, unpredictability at its finest. 

It’s easy to find it, as she can’t sense her father’s chakra but can sense the clothing on his back. Clothing has the quietest of sounds, barely noticeable compared to everything else around it, and so it’s easy to find the objects in her father’s pocket, three tiny little sparks of ‘natural energy’. 

One is easy to identify, being the buzzing sticky syrup sound of honeycomb held in wax paper. The next is a little more difficult, but eventually she parses out the clang of energy going in every which way to be sharpened iron…although she can’t tell exactly what kind, she assumes it must be a weapon. And the last is that of a flower, whose energy is now rushing from its cut stem like blood from an artery. She focuses a little more on that energy, smells the rain in it, the tang of grass, and knows its name.

“There are three things.” Hashirama starts, and her father sits a little straighter. “Honeycomb. Some kind of…weapon? Iron. And finally a flower. Hanashobu to be exact.”

Butsuma slowly pulls out the three objects he’s placed in his pocket, and one by one Hashirama’s predictions come true. The weapon is a shuriken.

“You are correct.” He says, and looks at in a way that has Hashirama’s stomach flipping. 

For the first time in her life she sees her father look at her with the same emotion he gives Tobirama so easily, and she doesn’t know what to do with it. What is it, she wonders. Is it pride? Is it…love? Perhaps they’re one and the same for her father.

“So…what does that mean?” Hashirama asks slowly, looking at Suzu with wide eyes, “For Touka-nee, I mean.”

Suzu blinks, looking bewildered. She looks over to Butsuma briefly before shaking her head. “Well, I…I suppose, waka-sama, that I am inclined to believe you if Oyakata-sama is.”

“...I am.” Butsuma says, still looking at Hashirama, “Touka will remain as a kunoichi then, seeing as this has just been a misunderstanding, although perhaps you should increase stealth lessons for your kunoichi. My son is not known for his subterfuge, yet he still managed to follow one of your girls without her noticing.”

“That…” Suzu’s mouth purses, then relaxes as Butsuma’s eyes narrow. She bows her head briefly. “As you say Oyakata-sama.”

“Good. Now, you may tell the rest of your girls that she is innocent, and I want the story that my son has told spread to any that would hear it.”

“Of course...I am glad we could resolve this misunderstanding without issue, Oyakata-sama. I will…take my leave.” 

Suzu gives Hashirama a long look as she leaves, half wondering and half suspicious, but eventually she shakes her head and takes Touka with her when she leaves. It leaves Hashirama alone with her father, whose hungry gaze has still not left her.

“Make no mistake, I am not happy with your little display just now. It could have gone far more disastrously for you, should Suzu-sensei have realized you could see the dojo the entire time.” Her father hums, fiddling with the hanashobu flower idly. 

Then, Hashirama watches in shock as he smiles . “But, in light of this new information…I will let it slide.”

“Th-thank you, chichi-ue.”

“It is done. Now, our next order of business is how we will train your newfound talent. It will be quite beneficial to our clan if you can use it well.” Butsuma hums, “Kondoro is on leave for the next month after he broke his leg on his last mission. Considering you too will be kept in the village for some time by your broken arm, you will go to him to learn until you are both fit for duty. He’s currently training Tobirama in the chakra sensing, but I’m sure he won’t mind a second student.”

“Ah, Tobi-chan is training with him?” Hashirama murmurs, a pang of hurt going through his chest. Why hadn’t his little brother mentioned that to him?  

“He’s the best sensor in the village, and one of the few besides myself that has a summons contract.” Butsuma says. Hashirama wonders what having a summons has to do with it, but doesn’t dare interrupt her father to ask. “When Tobirama showed signs of being a promising sensor nin, I had him begin training with my cousin. He’s already quite advanced, however, I’m not sure how much more Kondoro can teach him…either way it’s the perfect time for him to take on another student.” 

Hashirama had also shown signs of being a sensor nin at that age…although as her father had said, her teachers all thought she had little talent in the area. Is that why Butsuama never had Kondoro teach her sensing before this? Or did her father just not want Kondoro rubbing off on her more than he already did being her mentor? He complained about that often after all.

“If anyone can help you train this ‘other’ sense of yours, it would be him.” 

She simply bows her head in acknowledgment and sighs in relief when she is dismissed. As much as she’s always craved the look of acknowledgement from her father, now that she’s gotten it she’s not particularly keen to receive it again. It feels stifling.

“Oh, and before you go. Take this.” Butsuma pushes the wax paper wrapped honeycomb across his desk at her. “I’ve never been one for sweet things.”

-

The honeycomb is delicious, but it turns bittersweet on her tongue as she comes home to a tearful Touka in Yano’s arms. Despite her own apologies and Touka’s insistence that she isn’t angry, that she’s thankful for Hashirama’s help…she can’t help but still feel guilty. She’d almost gotten her best friend banned from being a kunoichi, all just so she could learn something she wasn’t even supposed to. 

What kind of friend is she? She’s been lying this whole time to Touka, and she suddenly feels unbearably selfish. She wishes, more than anything, that she didn't have to lie anymore...but even once the truth is out, won't she still be living a lie? Hashirama looks in the mirror that night, the tiny polished brass one that Yano had given her one year for her birthday, and tries to find the girl beneath her boy mask.

Her face is long and tan, her jaw round and soft with youth. Will her jaw strengthen and sharpen like her father's as she gets older? Or will it remain soft like Yano's is, becoming more feminine and slender? And what of her hair? It's always shorn short into an ugly bowl cut that even the other boys in the clan poke fun at; Hashirama had tried to let it grow out once, but one look from her father and an order to get it cut had put a stop to such plans immediately. 

How much of what she sees in the mirror is really her? How much of it is a lie? Will Touka still like what she sees when Hashirama is no longer Hashirama, but rather Hachimitsu?

She drops the mirror, face down, and heads to her futon with a strange and heavy weight in her chest. She doesn't know the answer, and for the first time in her life Hashirama feels a curdle of dislike for herself, a seed of doubt planted deep within her chest that begins to grow deep roots. 

Chapter Text

Hashirama wakes the morning of her first training session with Kondoro and Tobirama to the sound of muffled voices outside her room. 

“Bocchan? I thought he left already, don’t you two have training tod–hey!” Touka’s voice calls, before raising sharply, “Oji-san, you can’t just barge in here and—oh, yes, fine just do whatever you want then! Just like you always do—”

A moment later the sound of her bedroom door sliding open startles Hashirama into opening her eyes. She blinks up at the sideways face of Kondoro, who has apparently poked his head into her bedroom with a bright grin. Hashirama squeaks and kicks a foot out, aiming her heel for his chin and being desperately disappointed when he smoothly grabs it and moves it away instead. 

“Hashi-kun!” He says loudly, too loudly for this damn early by the way, as Hashirama groans and tries to pull her ankle from his hold. He just grabs it harder and holds it up, practically hauling her vertically from the bedding. Hashirama flails as she’s suddenly upside down, wondering how the man can lift her so easily despite only having one arm free, the other one clutching a wooden crutch to support his broken leg. 

“I hear someone just became eeeextra special! Something about being the reincarnation of the Sage of six paths? Should I bow?”

Hashirama stops her flailing to awkwardly look up at her mentor with a look of horror. “What?! Is that what everyone’s saying? It’s only been a few days!”

“Word travels fast in a village when everyone’s family.” Kondoro says brightly, looking over his shoulder with a smile, “Isn’t that right girls?”

Kondoro slides the door open a little more, and suddenly Hashirama sees out into the common area, where Touka appears to be pouring two girls a cup of tea nervously. Kotone sits primly in front of her, and politely thanks Touka as she takes a cup, seemingly undisturbed by their antics, while the other, unfamiliar girl, looks at them with wide eyes. Touka gives a gasp and drops the teapot as soon as she notices Hashirama’s bedroom door is open.

“Oji-san!” Touka says, sounding scandalized as she lunges forward to cover Kotone and the other unfamiliar girl's eyes. Hashirama promptly squeaks and flails to shut the door, despite still being held nearly upside down by her ankle. She knows she must look ridiculous.

“Sh-shut the door! I have drool on my face!” Hashirama growls out to Kondoro, while the evil man that is her father’s cousin simply laughs. Hashirama desperately tries to kick the man in the throat, thankful more than anything that she’d worn the shorts and long shirt of a jinbei to sleep instead of just a loose open yukata. Although maybe if she had just worn a yukata to sleep the idiot probably wouldn’t be embarrassing her like this right now, considering how revealing that would be.

“Oji-san, there are innocent eyes here!” Touka apparently agrees with Hashirama’s sentiments, although for a different reason, as she picks up the nearby ceramic tea pet, the one Hashirama gave her for her birthday because it looked like a fat cat, and throws it at her uncle's head. It hits with a thunk, but seemingly just makes Kondoro laugh harder. “Close the door right this instant or I’ll tell okaa-san and she’ll make sure all your kimono’s are dyed bright pink!”

“Oh alright, alright, relax you two!” Kondoro pouts, but does shut the door enough that Hashirama can’t see the common area any longer. He looks at her with a face of perfect innocence. “What, are you embarrassed about a little bed head?”

“You–it’s—” Hashirama flounders, finally managing to wrench her ankle from his grip. She lunges forward to shut the door the rest of the way, uncaring that it slams into his neck as she does so. 

“Ack!” Kondoro chokes, then smiles, “Ohoho, you’ve gotten better at getting out of my holds!”

“Get OUT!” 

–

A few minutes later a fully dressed Hashirama comes out to the sounds of Touka dressing down her uncle. Hashirama sits at the small table in the center of the room, still blushing and avoiding the gaze of the three girls at the table. Kondoro seems fully unapologetic for his actions, leaning back with an amused grin as Touka finishes her tirade, his leg laying awkwardly to the side in a thick cast.

“—and it’s incredibly improper for you to be here anyways, barging into our rooms without warning and without okaa-san here!”

“I’m here to pick Hashirama up for our first day of training!” Kondoro explains to his fuming ten year old niece, “Yano-san had an early morning meeting and waiting for her would waste too much time—besides, we’re all family here!”

“Hana-chan isn’t! She’s a Senjirou!” Touka says, making the unfamiliar girl across from her flinch a little. “I-I mean not that it’s bad to be a Senjirou, I just meant—!”

For the first time in Hashirama’s life, she sees Touka flounder. She watches in awe as her usually composed and serious friend blushes and stutters over her words awkwardly in front of this ‘Hana.’ 

“It’s okay Touka-chan!” The girl, Hana, says with an easy pat to Touka’s shoulder. “I know what you meant.”

“...right. Sorry.” Touka sighs.

Hashirama shares a confused look with Kotone, who merely giggles while Hana glances over at them with a shy look. The girl is a slight dainty thing with curly black hair and grey eyes, maybe about eleven, a little older than Touka but younger than Kotone. 

She is remarkably…unremarkable, but still Hashirama thinks she’d vaguely seen her around Touka and the other kunoichi girls before at some point. Maybe when they were sparring? Hashirama startles as Hana suddenly turns to her, bowing deeply.

“And I apologize, waka-sama, for coming unannounced to your home like this!” Hana says, her head fully touching the tatami. “Please forgive this interruption!”

“Oh, uh, it’s okay! No worries! Sorry you had to see my bed head and all, you know, covered in drool.” Hashirama laughs, moving to pull Hana up from her bowed state.

Hana looks up bashfully, face beet red as she glances off to the side. “I-it’s okay, waka-sama, I didn’t mind.”

And then the girl giggles. Hashirama looks over to Kotone and Kondoro with confusion only to see them giggling too, and so she looks to Touka next for an answer, only to be met with a dark glare that burns hotter than the sun. She flinches, wondering at what she did to deserve that look.

“Why are you looking at me like this is my fault?” Hashirama whispers to Touka, bewildered, “It’s not like I asked for this! All I did was wake up—”

“Late.” Touka hisses out, stabbing Hashirama in the side with a boney finger. “You woke up late. You were supposed to be up hours ago and already gone! Otherwise I wouldn’t have invited Hana and Kotone over!” 

“Ah, is it that late?” Hashirama laughs nervously,  realizing she may have indeed overslept.

“— Regardless, it’s nearly ten already and we have training to do.” Touka says, pointedly looking at Kondoro and Hashirama. “ All of us.”

“So true, Touka-chan!” Kotone interrupts gently, grabbing Hashirama with one arm and his crutch with the other as he stands up awkwardly. “I promise we’re leaving now! Enjoy your training session you three!”

And with that Kondoro drags Hashirama out of her home, leaving behind a still glaring Touka, a blushing Hana, and a giggling Kotone. She shrugs off the strange interaction, although a part of her worries at Touka’s clear anger with her. Things have been…tense between them since she was caught spying on the kunoichi dojo two days ago. A lot of things had been tense, in truth.

As they walk down the street alongside the main compound Hashirama ducks hunches down as much as she can, feeling the eyes of the people they pass stick to her. Kondoro knocks into her with a friendly bump, raising an eyebrow.

“What, you don’t like the attention? But you’re usually so eager for it…”

“Not this kind of attention.” Hashirama grumbles, rubbing at her head to make sure her usual bowl cut isn’t still sticking up at all angles with bed head. “This is the kind of attention that has everyone in the clan looking at me like I’m some weird bug they’ve never seen before.”

The story of what happened with Suzu-sensei and the kunoichi dojo had spread quickly, and even just a few days later eyes follow her now she walks through the compound, to Hashirama’s embarrassment and annoyance. As heir to the Senju clan, Hashirama has always been noticed, but not like this . 

It doesn’t help that Touka has largely been avoiding her after the incident, despite saying that everything was okay between them…this morning’s anger had only compounded on the fact that things clearly were anything but okay.

“Hmm…well, there’s nothing to be done about it.” Kondoro sighs as he pats her on the head, messing up her attempts to smooth out her hair. “It’s only been a week. They’ll die down, as all rumors do.”

Not all rumors die down. Hashirama huffs, thinking to herself about the rumors that surround her own father and how he became clan head in the first place. But she knows better than to say such a thing aloud; Kondoro is close with her father, in a way that she’s only seen Elder Shibuma be. Unlike Shibuma however, Kondoro actually makes her father smile. Which is always weird to see, honestly.

“C’mon little Sage .” Kondoro says, grabbing Hashirama’s arm as he body flickers them to the pathway that leads to their training ground. Hashirama groans, half in rage over the nickname and half in annoyance at his man handling. “Time to test out your new super special powers!”

“Nope, I can’t train. I’m dead. Dead from embarrassment!” Hashirama cries, suddenly going limp in his hold as she faux sobs on the ground. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to slow him down at all, despite the fact he only has one free arm to drag her with. “Kondo-san killed me!”

“Ah, that’s unfortunate!” Kondoro coos, dragging her despite her dead weight and his broken leg. The crutch seems to barely slow him down at all. “I’ll have to bring your corpse to your brother at least. I’m sure he’ll want to say his goodbyes.”

Hashirama lets out a little ‘ow’ each time her head or arm cast hits a rock on the path, but otherwise keeps up her dead act as Kondoro drags her all the way up the hill, limping all the way. Several people gasp and stare, but that’s par for the course whenever she and Kondoro are together in the village.

Finally they come to a stop and the clouds above her are suddenly disrupted by Kondoro’s smiling face, his long brown hair falling down and tickling her nose. She blows it out of her face as she looks up at Kondoro, wondering at how he can be so aggravating and yet still look so kind. He has the sort of face that puts people at ease, but in Hashirama’s opinion it’s a facade to hide his annoying personality. Most people underestimate Kondoro in the clan, likely because he always looks so relaxed, slouched and smiling lazily…but she’s seen how he is on the battlefield and knows that his easy going facade hides a dangerous shinobi.

“Wow, Hashi-kun! You could give me a run for my money with your theatrics!” Kondoro laughs, poking Hashirama in the forehead repeatedly. “But enough’s enough little Sage, up you go.”

“Alright, alright, stop poking me, I’m up.” She huffs, sitting up and rubbing the back of her bruised head with her good hand. “And don’t call me that!”

“Anija.” Tobirama sighs, and Hashirama whirls around in the grass to gasp at the sight of her little brother. “You’re late. We were supposed to start two hours ago.”

“Tobi-kun!” Her head tilts as her eyes slowly move to behind Tobirama. 

There’s a cat behind her brother. A tiny white kitten whose paws are practically half the size of its own head. It squeaks at Hashirama’s attention, the hair on its back rising as its pupils expand to the size of black coins.

“...and friend?”

“This is Fuwa-chan.” Tobirama says seriously as he leans down to grab the tiny kitten. Something about seeing her serious little six year old brother pick up and pet a tiny fluffy white cat with such a deadpan face has Hashirama clutching her sides to try and keep from laughing.

“...so…cute…!” Hashirama chokes out, hands outstretched towards her brother. …must…hug!

Tobirama side steps her with a sigh, letting her face plant on the ground in front of him. Fuwa hisses and bats at her. 

“Kondoro-sensei, can we get started?” Tobirama says stiffly, only for Hashirama to leap up from the grass with wide eyes.

“Wait! You can’t just move on from that!” Hashirama yells, grabbing Tobirama around the neck before he can scoot away from her. “When did you get a pet?!”

“Ah, Kuwa-chan isn’t a pet, Hashi-kun.” Kondoro interrupts, leaning down to poke Fuwa-chan on her tiny pink nose. The tiny white leopard hisses again and tries to bite at his finger. “Fuwa-chan is a summons!”

“A summons?” Hashirama murmurs in surprise. When did her brother get a summons? Isn’t summoning something that takes a lot of chakra? She looks over at Tobirama with worried eyes. 

“Yup! A snow leopard kitten from the Big Cats clan to be exact…which brings us to our first lesson of the day—Tobi-kun, how’s your chakra levels after summoning Fuwa-chan?”

“Low.” Tobirama mutters, red eyes glancing to the side as he pouts a little. Hashirama watches Fuwa nibble on her brother’s hair with wide eyes, entranced by how patient her usually anti-touch little brother is. “I only have enough to summon the smallest of the Big Cats, and only one. My chakra levels are already under 40%.”

“That’s impressive Tobi-kun! Summoning jutsu always takes a lot of chakra and you’re not even seven yet, so it’s unsurprising you can’t do much more than this.” Kondoro nods as if he expected this answer, “We’ll keep your training light today, nothing too strenuous.”

“When did you get a summons, Tobi-kun?” Hashirama asks, and raises a brow when her brother glances away as if he feels guilty. 

“Haha-ue gave me the contract when I turned six…although I haven’t tried to use it until now.”

Hashirama’s eyes widen. Chiba gave him a summons contract? Did she bring one from the Hogoromo clan? “So long? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Again Tobirama looks away and then back again, “Haha-ue told me I shouldn’t…she said it’d be rude to do so when you yourself don’t have a contract, that you would be…”

Tobirama trails off awkwardly, but the words unsaid are clear. Chiba told him that Hashirama would be jealous .

That surprises Hashirama, and also…hurts her feelings a little. But is Chiba wrong really? She opens her mouth to deny it, but finds she can’t. After all she has been feeling strange lately when Tobirama was praised by their father, she can’t blame Tobirama for noticing and trying to avoid making Hashirama feel worse…still, she is happy for her brother, despite the seed of jealousy that she does her best to ignore.

In the end Hashirama does her best to brush the strange tangle of feelings aside, “Well, I think it’s great that you have one Tobi-kun!” 

Tobirama looks at her and gives her a brief tentative smile as he strokes the head of Fuwa. “Thank you, anija…”

Hashirama turns to Kondoro then, curious. “Chichi-ue mentioned that you had a summons too, Kondo-san…”

Kondoro nods, “Yup, that I do.”

Hashirama waits, but Kondoro only rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, still smiling. Hashirama shares a glance with Tobirama, who briefly shrugs at her raised eyebrow.

“And…they are…?” She finally asks slowly.

“That, my cute little Hachi-chan, is a secret.” Kondoro snickers at her pout, “But yes, I have a summons. I’m sure my cousin told you it would help with your new sensory abilities, likely because—”

“—because you’re going to give me a summons?” Hashirama says hopefully.

“Ah, no.” Kondoro says with an apologetic smile. “My summons have a strict policy of only taking direct blood relatives on their contracts, or otherwise transferring it entirely to another line…and as much as I wish to help you, I would rather not take such an opportunity away from my daughter.”

Tobirama looks surprised by that, “Really? But…I thought contracts were only passed to sons?”

Hashirama flinches at that, wondering if that’s why her father hasn’t given her any sort of contract himself. Surely the Senju have contracts passed down from heir to heir? But then why would Tobirama have gotten a contract from Chiba rather than Butsuma?

“That’s more of a shinobi rule than a summoner one.” Kondoro says, eyeing Hashirama as if he’s guessed her thoughts. “Besides, Kotone is my only child, I have no sons to pass it to and I don’t intend to have any more children.” 

Tobirama still looks vaguely confused, “Oh. Haha-ue said that’s why she wasn’t allowed to sign the big cat contract, because they only pass to sons.”

“Like I said, summons typically don’t care about such things.” Kondoro hummed and scratched his head, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “If Okugata-sama couldn’t sign with the big cats, it was likely because she was prevented from doing so by the Hogoromo.”

“Haha-ue is an only child too…why would they prohibit her their clan contract, only to give it to me?” Tobirama asks with a frown, “I’m a Senju, not a Hogoromo.”

“I suppose the Hogoromo likely couldn’t convince the Big Cats to sign with someone else in the clan, and so they decided the next best thing would be to give it to her son.” Kondoro said, and Hashirama watched as that answer only made Tobirama more confused.

“Then haha-ue should have signed with them. Fuwa-chan said they would have gladly taken her, so why—”

“That’s because…well, I suppose because she’s a kunoichi, Tobi-kun.” Kondoro says with a sigh. “Many believe they’ll never be as powerful as a shinobi, so why give them something that could benefit a man more?”

“That’s stupid.”

Hashirama snorts at her brother’s honest words, spoken with the simplicity only a six year old can manage when speaking about such a complex topic. She’s about to step in and try and change the subject when Tobirama continues, brows furrowed in annoyance.

“Even if what you say was true…shouldn’t we be giving our weakest members things to help make them stronger?” 

Hashirama fidgets nervously as she shares a look with Kondoro. It’s strange to see her own brother coming to the realization of an injustice in the world. Stranger still to see a boy so young speak as if he’s twice his age…although that’s not unusual for Tobirama. Her brother has always been ahead of his peers when it comes to such things...even Hashirama herself sometimes, and she’s turning ten in only a few weeks. Still, intelligent or not, she isn’t quite sure how to break it to him that this is simply a part of the world that isn’t fair, nor logical. 

Shinobi, or perhaps just men, don’t like to give kunoichi anything that could be theirs. It soothes something in her though, to know he does in fact see it as an injustice. 

“You’re so sweet, Tobi-kun.” Hashirama says, bumping shoulders with her brother. Tobirama and Fuwa both scowl at her.

“Sweet?” Tobirama huffs, crossing his arms. “It’s only logical…”

“You’re right, Tobi-kun.” Kondoro says with a gentle pat to his white hair, his usually genial and smiling face suddenly serious. “But unfortunately a lot of people in this world are not logical. Or perhaps it’s just that they let the hatred and fear in their hearts get in the way of such logic…it’s why I’ve ignored the elders' demands that I pass my contract to another in the clan, rather than my own daughter.”

“Kotone deserves it!” Hashirama agrees, even as she’s a little sad she doesn’t have a father that would do the same for her. Quickly she moves on, trying to change the subject and break the tension in the air. “Although, if you aren’t going to help me get my own contract, why did chichi-ue say you’d be the best to help me? Do summons know how to sense natural energy like I do?”

“Great question!” Kondoro says with a bright smile and a clap of his hands. He takes a deep breath as if to speak, but then pauses and deflates. “Nope, not really.”

Hashirama and Tobirama both look at Kondoro with unimpressed faces, and Kondoro laughs.

“Alright, alright, I’ll explain.” Kondoro clears his throat. “See, summons are often associated with natural energy, because it’s the energy that makes up our entire world; it’s in the air we breathe, the water we drink, the earth beneath our feet…and it also makes up the world our summons come from.”

“Summons have a different world?” Hashirama gapes. “I always assumed they were like ninken, where they could be summoned but they had to…y’know, live somewhere.”

“They live in the Place Between.” Tobirama says, and Fuwa lets out a meow of agreement. “Didn’t you ever listen to Norito-sensei when he was talking, anija?” 

“Hmmm…not really.” Hashirama says dismissively, and Kondoro snorts while Tobirama rolls his eyes.

“Tobi-kun is right! As its name suggests, the Place Between lies between the Physical Realm, where we live, and the Pure Lands, where dead souls and kami live. Or so we assume anyways.” Kondoro says, “Summons can be brought to the Physical Realm with the blood of a shinobi who they sign a contract with. However, when they take too much damage and can no longer hold their form with chakra, they return to that Place Between, where it’s theorized they become pure natural energy once more.”

Hashirama hums thoughtfully, “So they’re…spirits?”

“Partially. Maybe?” Kondoro waves his hand back and forth. “They age and they can die, but only within their own realm, not ours. Some stories say they were once messengers to the Kami, and would only speak with Sennin Monks or the Sage of Six Paths…but who knows if that’s true or not.”

“Summons know the Sage of Six Paths?!” Hashirama sputtered.

“Well. Not my particular summons, but I’ve been told of others that did yes. The Snake, Toad and Slug Summons amongst the most notable. They’re known for their ability to use natural energy alongside chakra, making them incredibly powerful.” Kondoro says as Hashirama nearly foams at the mouth in awe. “This is likely why your father said I could be of help…unfortunately, I wasn’t completely lying before. My summons have no knowledge of such things…”

“Oh…So how do I get a summons that does ?” She asks, flipping abruptly from depressed to excited again quickly. “I want something super cool! Like…like a dragon! I bet a dragon would know all about natural energy!”

“Dragons aren’t real anija.” Tobirama says, then hesitates and looks to Kondoro curiously, “...are they?”

“Well…no.” Kondoro says slowly. “I don’t think so?”

“See even Kondo-san don’t know! They could exist!!” Hashirama huffs at her brother, “Just cuz it hasn’t been seen doesn’t mean it isn’t real. I mean summons are from a whole other world. But fine, if not a dragon, what?”

Kondoro snorts shaking his head, “Hmm…we could send word to Uzushio, see if your maternal relatives would be willing to pass a contract down to you, but something tells me that Okugata-sama wouldn’t like that plan…”

“Mama-haha? Why not?” Hashirama asks, annoyed. Everything she does seems to annoy her step mother after all.

“Well…” Kondoro drawls, looking over at Tobirama with an odd look in his eye. “It’d make the Senju look like they’re disfavoring you over Okugata-sama’s sons, which...”

“Would be bad.” Hashirama finishes for him with a roll of her eyes. She groans as she falls backward to lay in the grass, pouting. “I hate politics. Be glad you don’t have to deal with them yet Tobi-kun.”

Kondoro hums in agreement as Tobirama shifts awkwardly. Even with Hashirama’s eyes closed she can feel the little chirps of natural energy as Kondoro idly rips up the grass next to him. It makes her twitch every time.

“There’s no other way to get a summoner contract, is there?” Hashirama asks hopefully.

“…I mean…there’s always the old fashioned way.” Kondoro says slowly, side eyeing Hashirama. “Performing the summoning jutsu without a target will bring you to the summons that suits you best. That’s the way I did it. Though it is a bit…dangerous.”

“Danger is my middle name,” Hashirama says seriously. “I’ll do it!”

“Anija!” Tobirama says disapprovingly.

“Not even asking questions!” Kondoro cackles, “Diving straight in without even knowing what it involves, ah we really are alike aren’t we? Still, we’ll have to get your father’s approval for something like that…”

Immediately she deflates, disappointed, while Tobirama sighs in what appears to be relief.

“Don’t be like that Hashi-kun~” He says, leaning forward to smoosh Hashirama’s face between his hands until her face pulls into a facsimile of a smile. “All is not lost! I was given some good tips from my summons after all!”

“Tips, okay, yes,” Hashirama nods, hope rising again, “like what?”

“Well…” Kondoro hums, “They said that while they don’t know how to do it, they know it’s possible to draw natural energy into one’s own body, and mix it with your chakra to create something twice as powerful as ninjutsu, called senjutsu—”

“That sounds so cool–!”

“–-ah, but they also said that anyone they know who's tried it has turned themselves into stone…”

“Stone?!” 

“...that or they’ve died. Anyways, that’s pretty helpful right?”

“Died?!” Hashirama grabs her brother for support, who for once is just as wide eyed as she is. “That’s not helpful at all!!”

“…chichi-ue isn’t actually expecting anija to do that is he?” Tobirama says.

“Oh, no, thankfully he doesn’t even know it’s possible to use it that way; and I’m certainly not going to tell him. My cousin is too ambitious for his own good…” Kondoro laughs despite the darkness underlying his words, “No, your father is likely more interested in you using your ability to sense genjutsu faster. It’s the Uchiha’s specialty after all.”

“...sense genjutsu…” Hashirama murmurs, “You can’t do that with normal sensing?”

“Sensing chakra has helped me break out of genjutsu,” Tobirama says. “But only if I sense someone that should be there but isn’t. Kondoro-sensei has used a few really good genjutsu on me that only affected the world around me. I can never break those.”

Hashirama turns with narrowed eyes to Kondoro. “You’ve been using genjutsu on him?!”

“Of course! I always say it’s better to learn to break a genjutsu here, in the village, rather than out in the field. Besides, Tobirama may not be seven yet but he’s going to be–” Suddenly Kondoro’s eyes dart over Hashirama’s shoulder and he stops himself, clearing his throat. “–going to be one of the best this clan has ever seen when it comes to sensing chakra!”

That was…odd. Hashirama thinks as Kondoro laughs nervously, glancing back over her shoulder to Tobirama. She squints at her brother who simply blinks at her, Fuwa staring up at her with big innocent eyes.

“Anyways, as for you being able to sense genjutsu easier…well it’s a theory.” Kondoro hums, “Genjutsu affects your chakra system, using it to confuse your senses with a false reality, but only a reality that the caster knows. Since you can sense natural energy, something only the Sage himself was known to do, theoretically you should always be able to sense when your reality does not match what you're seeing. Just like how you figured out that Suzu-sensei’s genjutsu at the kunoichi dojo gate was wrong.”

Right, but that was also because I’m a girl and didn’t even see the genjutsu in the first place, and you know that. Hashirama rolls her eyes.

“Anyways, like I said, it's a theory.” Kondoro says, and then smiles an almost evil grin. “Should we test it out?”

Hashirama shares a nervous look with Tobirama, who grabs Fuwa and begins petting her aggressively. She looks back to Kondoro slowly. 

“I don’t have a choice do I.”

“You’re so smart Hashi-kun!” Kondoro laughs, “No you don’t! Neither of you do!”

–

What follows is some of the most brutal training that Hashirama has ever experienced in her life. Kondoro throws genjutsu after genjutsu at them both, tricking their brains into believing the ground is on fire, or that the roots of the trees have broken from the earth to wrap around their ankles and suck them down, or once that the very air itself had suddenly become unbreathable. That last one sucked the most. 

What they discover is that their theory is… mostly correct. Hashirama can sense when the illusion doesn’t match reality…but that’s only if she’s not panicking so badly she forgets to even try. Tobirama proves himself to be better at breaking himself from the illusions than she is, probably because of the extensive practice he has with Kondoro already and his summons Fuwa; apparently the big cat’s clan specializes in seeing through illusions. 

While their first training session is a bit of a disappointment, Tadashi said that Hashirama has at least three or four weeks before her arm and Kondoro’s leg are healed, so she has plenty of time to improve. While they’re both sidelined Kondoro takes over her training entirely and runs her near ragged; the next week is brutal. In the morning he has Hashirama work on her speed and stamina, since her arm is out of commission that mostly means running miles around the compound and doing squats until her legs are jelly. After that she gets a quick lunch break where she heads over to the children's training grounds and watches Tobirama spar with the other young clan boys under Norito’s tutelage. 

She’s a little shocked how good he is for his age. It has her worried that they’ll push him to enter the field early; he’s only five months away from his seventh birthday after all. After Tobirama is done with his training under Norito they train breaking genjutsu with Kondoro, being run into the ground mentally by his elaborate illusions. Sometimes his daughter Kotone will join them, learning her father’s specialty and practicing on Hashirama and Tobirama gleefully. 

Those days are always the worst, mostly because Hana and Touka will join them too; Hashirama still doesn’t know how to handle Touka’s glaring at her whenever Hana is around. I mean, what's her issue?? It’s not Hashirama’s fault that Hana laughs at all her jokes is it? Hashirama’s just naturally funny, she can’t help being gifted! If Touka is jealous, then maybe she should work on having a sense of humor!

At the end of the first week of training, Kondoro joins them for their weekly family dinner in the hopes of gaining Butsuma’s permission for Hashirama to try her hand at gaining a summons ‘the old fashioned way’. 

“Absolutely not.” Unfortunately, and perhaps a bit surprisingly, her father vetoes it as soon as Kondoro suggests it. 

“What? Why not?!” Hashirama whines, balking under her father’s quick glare. She clears her through and tries again. “I thought you’d be happy for me to get a summons, chichi-ue.”

“When someone performs the summoning jutsu without a contract, they essentially throw themselves into the ether of the Place Between, letting their soul be drawn into the territory of the summons that suits them best.” Butsuma clarifies, “If no summons is interested in you, your soul would drift untethered for eternity. You would never age, never sleep, never eat, never die, until you go so mad that even should your soul be brought back here, you would be dead in spirit if nothing else.”

While Hashirama sticks by her initial eagerness to try it, she is a bit more apprehensive now that her father explains it. She looks over at Kondoro with accusatory eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that! I told you it was dangerous…” Kondoro huffs, “Besides, that only happened once…and it was like, one hundred years ago. I’m sure Hashirama would be fine!”

“Once is enough.” Butsuma says with a roll of his eyes.

“But Kondo-san said he did it, surely it can’t be that dangerous.” Hashirama whines and, taking a chance, turns her big patented puppy dog eyes on her father. “Pleaaaaasee, Chichi-ue?”

Her father surprisingly seems relatively amused by her theatrics, and for once doesn’t say her ‘whining is most unbefitting of the heir to the Senju’ like he usually does; she gives Kondoro the credit for that, Butsuma is always far more lenient when he’s around. Chiba however is quite unamused, glaring openly at her from across the table. She gets the sense that she’d be more than happy to see Hashirama attempt something so dangerous.

“Just because Kondoro did it, does not mean you will. He was lucky. Besides, even if you were pulled into a summons territory, there is no telling that it will be a friendly one.” Butsuma sighs, “A summons will always test a new contract taker, and many will not be merciful should you fail.”

“Okay, that also only happened once—and honestly that little jerk deserved it—”

Her father rolls his eyes (fondly?) at Kondoro’s antics, “Would you cease your blathering? I said no, that’s the end of the discussion.”

“Cousin, just because you say it’s the end of a discussion does not mean it actually is. So long as I keep talking the conversation is not ov—”

“And we will not be sending a message to the Uzumaki either.” Butsuma says, talking right over Kondoro, and purposefully giving a look to a smug looking Chiba.

“—er.” Kondoro huffs, poking Butsuma in the side, “Hey now, that’s not very nice, talking right over your favorite cousin like that. I’d even say it’s r–” 

“A shinobi does not need a summons contract to be strong.” Butsuma says loudly, “After all, I have done perfectly fine without one–”

“—ude! Cousin, are you ignoring me?! I’m hurt. I’m devastated.” Kondoro feigns a mortal wound, falling over into Hashirama’s lap. “Hashi-kun, my cousin hates me! How will I live on?”

Hashirama takes up the mantle of theatrics easily, so used to playing along with her mentors play acting that she forgets for a moment her usual fear of angering father. “No, Kondo-san, don’t follow the light! Think of Kotone-chan! Think of your wife!”

“No, it’s too much…cousin…tell them I love them…blech.” Kondoro lets his tongue roll out, and Hashirama gasps dramatically as both Kawarama and Itama both laugh raucously at their theatrics. Tobirama just eyes his mother and father nervously, back straight as a board.

“Nooooo, Kondo-saaaaan!” Hashirama wails, shaking Kondoro by his shoulders.

“Are you two quite done?” Chiba says, setting down her tea cup loudly enough to have everyone at the table looking at her; after all, it’s probably the loudest she ever gets. “You’re childish antics are ruining my appetite. Are you shinobi, or children?”

“Indeed, I think that’s enough. This conversation is over with.” Butsuma says in a tight voice. Strangely when Hashirama looks over, she notes his mouth is twitching… if she didn’t know her father to be utterly humorless, she’d even say it looks suspiciously like he’s holding back laughter. Then again, she’s always astounded by how different her father is around his cousin.

I swear it’s like he’s a different person around Kondo-san…

“Ugh fiiiine.” Kondoro says, popping up from his death sprawl as he pouts prettily. “But let the record show that I still think it’s a good idea to use the summoning jutsu.”

“...I’ll be sure to tell the clan historians you said so.” Butsuma says mildly.

—

Surprisingly, despite his failure to help her get a summons, Hashirama finds Kondoro to be a very good teacher. He’s always been a good mentor out in the field, but that’s different from one on one training in the village. Training is usually more needs based while on missions, focusing on things that will keep them alive in the moment rather than in the long term, like how to sleep light enough to wake at the slightest sound, or how to hide their scent from trackers. Thankfully, although Kondoro is a sensor of the more traditional kind, she finds his advice surprisingly helpful when it comes to understanding her unique abilities. 

“It’s different for everyone…how sensing feels, I mean.” He tells her, “For me, I can almost ‘see’ it, especially when I close my eyes. Every individuals’ chakra is a different color, a different intensity. For others they can hear it, or feel it, or even taste it! I’ve been told I taste like nato.”

“Ew.” 

“Don’t be mean, Hashi-kun, it’s not cute. Nato is delicious.”

Hashirama wrinkles her nose. “What does my chakra look like?”

“Yours…” Kondoro closes his eyes and smiles, “It’s deep brown and green, like earth and growing things…and Tobi-kun’s is bright white, like a star. Both of your chakra signatures are intense, almost blinding really; likely because, even at your age, your chakra stores are quite large.”

“Woah…and you Tobi-kun? How do you sense people?” Hashirama asks her brother eagerly.

“It’s more of a smell for me.” Tobirama says after a long moment of contemplation. “But a smell that comes from my brain instead of my nose. It’s weird. And before you ask, anija, you smell like…damp earth, I think? Like the air before a storm.”

Hashirama slowly pulls her arm up to sniff herself. She doesn’t smell anything but sweat and grass.

“I don’t actually smell you, anija.” Tobirama sighs.

“Now…” Kondoro says, clapping his hands. “Tell me how you sense, Hashi-kun.”

Hashirama closes her eyes, focusing so hard she feels her whole forehead scrunch.

“I see…hm. I don’t really see it or smell it, Kondo-san.” She shakes her head. “I think I just…hear it? Or maybe a combination of hear and feel? I don’t feel your chakra, but I can feel the absence of it, and if I focus really hard I can sense the clothing on your back or the weapons at your hips.”

“What do they feel like then?”

“They’re all different. Each thing feels and sounds different. They’re chaotic.” Hashirama says with a frustrated huff. She’s never been great at explaining what she feels. “Your weapons go all… cling clang, y’know? And your hakama sounds like whoosh whoo!”

Both Tobirama and Kondoro look at her strangely as she waves her arms about and makes varied weird sounds; she stops, hands outstretched in a wiggling motion. Clearing her throat awkwardly she scratches the back of her head. “Anyways, yeah, anything that’s dead always sounds a bit…off. Sort of muffled? That’s why it’s hard to sense your clothes. Weapons are a bit easier I guess.”

“What do you mean dead?” Kondoro says with a tilt of his head.

“Well…stilt grass, for example, and most grass really, sounds zingy when it’s alive.” Hashirama says, sitting down to trail her hands through the patchy stilt grass that’s around them, trampled by dozens of training Senju shinobi. It’s a variety of grass that typically only grows in low light levels, which is why it grows rampant here on the forest floor of their training grounds. She closes her eyes and grips a hand full, pulling it root and all from the earth. The zing stops, the song dying slowly like a wound bleeding out. “...but once I pull it out of the ground, I kill it. The sound gets all muffled, and eventually I can barely hear it. Most things we have around us come from nature, like the reeds in our tatami matts, or the plants used to make the linen of our kimonos…all of it used to be alive once, but now it’s ‘dead’.”

She opens her eyes, looking down at the dying plant in her hand with a sting of sadness. Hashirama puts it back down on the ground, hoping a hare or a mouse will come by and eat it, so its death won’t be in vane. As she looks up she finds her brother looking at her with wide eyes, an unknown emotion in his eyes. 

“Interesting.” Kondoro hums, “And how far can you ‘hear’ these things?”

Hashirama pushes her senses as far out as she can. It’s maybe a hundred feet in either direction, and she tells him so and then asks how far Tobirama can sense.

“From here, the edge of my range extends to the main house.” Tobirama says, and Hashirama boggles at him.

“That’s nearly half a mile! That’s incredible!” She gawks, and her brother merely shrugs. She can tell by the hint of red on his cheeks that he’s mildly embarrassed by her awe though.

“Tobi-kun has improved quite a bit since we started our training together last year. I’m sure we can improve your range as well, Hashi-kun.” Kondoro says, looking contemplative. “You’re speaking loudly when you use the sensory technique, however. The sound, is it distracting?”

Hashirama nods, “It’s always in the background, but it’s easy to ignore when I’m not focusing on it. When I do though it gets loud , and everything starts to get confused in my head.” 

“If it’s mostly auditory, why do you close your eyes?” Kondoro points out, “It’s a bad habit to get into on the battlefield.”

“I..I don’t know. It just helps me focus on everything that isn’t… real I guess.” Hashirama frowns pointedly at him, “ You close your eyes, even in the field!”

“I’m an exception. I’ve had years of practice in using my other senses to offset the loss of my vision.” Kondoro says, “We call sensory techniques our ‘third eye’ or our ‘sixth sense.’ For the untrained, closing your physical eyes to focus on opening your third eye is fine in practice, but dangerous in the field. Practicing blind for now will help you expand your range, but it will make you vulnerable if you let it become a crutch. Sensing is like a muscle, the more you work it, the larger it becomes, but also like a muscle you must be careful to maintain not just the bulk , but the flexibility— ” 

“You’re making this too complicated!” Hashirama groans, “Do you want me to close my eyes or not?!”

“Awww, your face is so cute when you get all annoyed, Hashi-kun!’ Kondoro grins and ruffles Hashirama’s hair. “I’m just saying we must blunt the right senses in order to get the most out of your training!”

“Oh.” Tobirama says, and Hashirama’s head flies over to look at her brother with wide eyes. Her brother promptly looks away, avoiding her gaze.

“What’s that face for?” Hashirama looks back over to Kondoro, who is rooting around in a small knapsack he brought to their training. She sweats. “What are you doing?”

“Helping!” Kondoro pulls out a set of objects, a blindfold, earplugs, and a nose plug. “There’s always the chance when you block one sense that you’ll overcompensate with another one. So we should block all of them, until you learn to rely not on your physical senses but your mental ones . …and of course I will also be attacking you.”

“Wha– all my senses? Attacking?!”

“Yup! Doing so will force you to rely entirely on your third eye. You’ll improve your range and external awareness in no time!” Kondoro says as he wraps the thick chakra enforced blindfold around her head despite her protests. 

“...can I help?” Tobirama says, looking at Kondoro with a glint in his eye that Hashirama doesn’t like. 

“Of course! You can attack far better than I can right now anyways, considering this damn leg of mine.” Kondoro says, and Hashirama rolls her eyes; her morning would prove his words otherwise. She glares at her brother as the boy’s mouth quirks up in a brief smirk at Kondoro’s words. 

“Good luck, anija.” 

“Don’t look so happy about attacking me, Tobirama!” Hashirama pouts, “You’re hurting your anija’s feelings!”

“Oh no.” Tobirama says, deadpan. “What a shame.”

—

Hashirama stands still in the forest, her eyes blinded, her nose blocked, her ears deafened, and all she does is feel. She feels the wind on her face, the ground under her feet, and finally as everything else drifts away she hears the natural energy hum all around her. Her mind opens up, feeling and hearing the world around her in a way entirely different than the physical–

“Ooof–!”

Speaking of physical , Hashirama groans, moving to block the next attack but failing spectacularly. The breath is forced from her lungs as she’s hit in the solar plexus hard enough to throw her to the ground.

“How am I supposed to do this while you’re hitting so damn hard, Tobi-kun!”

There’s no response to her frustrated call, although Hashirama wouldn’t hear it if there was one. Instead she gets another jab to her side by her brother’s boney fist, making her yelp.

“You’re enjoying this too much!”

Unsurprisingly, it takes her several long, long minutes of getting beaten before she gains enough concentration to focus on the natural energy around her. She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she takes in the world around her. She feels the grass, the trees, the roots deep beneath her feet, the wind in her hair…and then finally she feels that absence of space that signals a body, creeping up behind her. He’s going to attack from the rear. 

Found you . Hashirama thinks with glee as she hones in on him. If she focuses hard enough she can hear the muted whisper of his linen clothing, the hum of leather shoes. It’s difficult to track ‘dead’ objects, as they’re so much quieter than the world around them, but it’s surprisingly much easier with all her other senses taken from her. She focuses on the zing of the natural fibers in his haori waving in the wind as he raises his arm to strike—

She twists to the side, and yells in success when the hit goes wide and doesn’t connect. Her moment of pride however disrupts her focus, and in the next moment she isn’t ready for harsh wood that hits her leg and sends her falling into the underbrush hard enough to disrupt her blindfold. She looks up with a whine at Kondoro, who she realizes had just tripped her with his crutch.

“You didn’t think I’d let Tobirama have all the fun, did you?”

“Okay, okay break! Just..one moment…tired…” Hashirama pants nasallyly as she pulls off her blindfold, earplugs and nose plugs. She then promptly throws herself to the side and theatrically cries. “I hate you both.”

“That was good Hashi-kun! You got it there at the end!” Kondoro’s smiling face appears to block the clouds in the sky, and she glares at him. “We’ll just have to keep practicing like this…again, and again, and again, until you can do it in your sleep!”

Hashirama groans. It’s only moderately worth the pain to see her little brother covering a smile.

—

By the end of the third week, Kondoro’s training proves itself useful as her sensing range expands to 300 feet in either direction, although her ability to pinpoint the location of actual people is still limited. She finds sensing natural energy far more easy and precise than locating people, which can often feel like finding a needle in a haystack to her, especially if she has none of her other senses to rely on.

Thankfully though, Hashirama has gotten better at controlling her panic prone hindbrain, and slowly begun to actually make some progress in breaking genjutsu. The first time she breaks out before Tobirama does she actually dances a little in glee. Tobirama is not as amused by her antics as Kondoro, but he congratulates her all the same. Her brother, congratulating her! It just makes her dance more, even trying to drag Tobirama into joining her.

Hashirama finds a quiet peace in the days spent training with her brother, enjoying all the time they get together. Sometimes Kawarama will even join in after his training with Norito-sensei, usually more than happy to help Hashirama practice sensing where he is as he tries to hide from her. Those are the best days, since afterwards they get to talk and catch up as a group, as they lie tired and sweaty in the grass. Well, Hashirama and Kawarama mostly talk and Tobirama nods with one syllable responses. Then, once her brothers are safely within Chiba’s claw-like grip, Hashirama heads home herself to help Yano make dinner before Touka comes home.

Touka has mostly been avoiding her still, and it makes Hashirama’s chest increasingly ache. She tells herself it’s just because she’s gearing up for her first mission now that she’s ten and skilled enough to enter the field…but it doesn’t quite ring true. Even Yano seems to have noticed the distance, casting worried looks at them both. Hashirama can do nothing except shrug a little and keep her head down, pushing her food around her bowl without really eating it.

–

Everything comes to a head on the day of her tenth birthday. Hashirama wakes up late, as usual, and is surprised by the smell of food wafting through the air. Outside her room, in the common area, Yano sits setting the small low table with the last of several small plates.

“Happy birthday, Hachi-chan.” Yano says with a gentle smile as soon as she notices her there. The address instantly tells Hashirama that they’re alone, and when she looks around she sees that Touka is indeed nowhere to be seen. “I made you your favorite, so make sure to eat well.”

Hashirama practically rolls out of her room in her haste to get to the table, salivating over the rolled omelette filled with sauteed mushrooms, with a side of soy sauce, grated daikon and seaweed salad; her favorite! She immediately thanks Yano hastily before delving into the meal with gusto. 

“Where’s Touka-nee?” Hashirama asks after a moment, her mouth still full but unable to wait any longer to ask.

“She had an early morning with Kotone-chan and Hana-chan.” Yano says hesitantly. “But she said she’d visit you at training later.”

“Oh.” Hashirama says with veiled disappointment. 

“Hachi-chan….” Yano says tentatively, “Did something…happen between you two?”

“You know what happened.” Hashirama says with a huff, guiltily looking to the side. “...I nearly ruined her life. No amount of apologizing will fix that.”

Yano is quiet then, her sharp features troubled whenever Hashirama looks at her. They finish their breakfast in silence, and it’s only as Hashirama turns to head to training that Yano finally speaks.

“Perhaps there is more to this than you think…have you tried talking to her? Touka-chan is a reasonable girl, I’m sure she’ll—”

“It doesn’t matter!” Hashirama interrupts, and she’s startled by her own raised voice. She can feel a sudden burning in her eyes which she blinks away with surprise, not realizing just how much Touka’s cold shoulder had impacted her until that moment. “It doesn’t matter…I know why and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Yano’s hand comes up to gently cup her cheek, turning Hashirama’s face back to her own. “We’re family, of course it matters—”

“Family doesn’t keep secrets from one another.” Hashirama says, and Yano flinches back. She scowls down at the floor, knowing already that it’s useless but needing to try anyway. They’ve had this conversation a dozen times now, and never has Yano budged from her insistence at keeping Touka in the dark. 

“If you’d just let me tell her, maybe—”

“You know I can’t do that, Hashirama.” Yano says softly, her hand over her heart. 

Hashirama grits her teeth, unable to speak around the sudden clogging of her throat. She pulls away from Yano as she gets up from the table and quickly turns to run out of the house. She can hear Yano calling for her, but she doesn’t stop. What more is there to say after all? 

—

Hashirama manages to rid her face of the remnants of tears and put on a workable smile by the time she gets to practice, although she doesn’t think it fully convinces Kondoro. The fact she’s still in her sleeping clothes, just a jinbei and a mismatching haori she’d grabbed from the clothesline on her way out, probably doesn't help. Thankfully he doesn’t embarrass her by bringing it up, and they go about their usual routine until her legs are aching and her lungs struggling to expand. Unfortunately for her, practice is twice as hard as usual, since Kondoro got his cast removed that morning, which means he apparently can now chase her.

“I miss when your leg was still broken.” Hashirama moans on her back, sweating enough that she can feel the grass sticking to her skin.

“If you have the energy to insult me, then you have the energy to keep running Hashi-kun!”

“Agh, no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

In the afternoon, Tobirama and Kawarama join them after their own training with Norito-sensei, although Hashirama notes that the eldest of the two looks vaguely…squirrely. Almost nervous. She eyes her brother with narrowed eyes, watching him fidget during their meditation exercises; he usually has no issue staying still, unlike Hashirama and Kawarama do.

“Tobi-kun, are you okay? You seem—” She tries to ask, only for her brother to hush her.

“I’m focusing, anija.” Tobirama says as Hashirama balks at him. 

The nerve–! She thinks, glaring at her younger brother as he ignores her favor of meditation. Fine if that’s the way he wants to be…

Later, after their meditation is over and they’ve moved on to genjutsu practice, Hashirama breaks out before him. She watches as Tobirama walks around the training yard in a daze, hitting several trees as he does, for several more minutes. Tobirama doesn’t usually have trouble with this genjutsu, which makes you see everything about a foot to the right, hence the running into trees. She shares a look with Kondoro, who merely shrugs. 

When Tobirama finally breaks out of the genjutsu he has several new bruises on his forehead and his cheeks are flushed with embarrassment. There has to be something wrong…and so she tries again.

“Tobi-kun, are you sure you’re okay?” She says slowly, noting how he scowls and looks to the side. “I know I’ve been getting better but you’re usually faster than tha—”

“I was just distracted by Kawarama.” Tobirama dismisses, avoiding her eyes, “Let’s go again, Kondoro-sensei. I’ll do better this time.”

“What’s distra-distracktid mean?” Kawarama asks her, stumbling over the word.

“Ah, he’s saying it’s your fault he couldn’t break the genjutsu faster.” Kondoro helpfully inserts with a faux innocent smile. Hashirama glares at him as her youngest brother instantly gasps in offense.

“What? It’s not my fault!” Kawarama says, dark eyes narrowed in on Tobirama. “Anija is just acting weird cuz he’s going on his first mission tomorrow—”

Instantly Tobirama’s hand is over Kawarama’s mouth…but it’s too late. Hashirama looks at Tobirama with wide eyes, who glances at her and then away awkwardly. Kawarama squirms and gives a muffled growl, before promptly licking their brother’s hand, which causes Tobirama to pull away with a disgusted look.

“Did you just lick me?”

“You’re going on a mission tomorrow?”

Both Hashirama and Tobirama speak at the same time, and the silence afterwards hovers like a damp blanket. Kondoro and Kawarama glance between them with wide eyes, while Hashirama glares over at Kondoro in realization. All the sudden silences, the cut off sentences and redirected words…Kondoro and Tobirama have been actively keeping this from her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Hashirama whispers to her brother, for the second time in as many weeks. Her brother’s mouth opens and closes silently, red eyes still avoiding her own.

“...I was going to tell you tomorrow, before I left.” Tobirama finally says, “I didn’t want to ruin your birthday dinner. I knew you’d react—”

“My birthday dinner? Who cares about that, this is way more important!” Hashirama interjects, cheeks flushing with both anger and a frantic anxiety. 

“—badly.” Tobirama finishes, but Hashirama isn’t listening to him, her thoughts spinning.

Her little brother isn’t even seven yet! He can’t even officially wear a formal hakama! What is her father thinking, approving such a thing? Sure, he’s clearly ahead of his peers for his age, perhaps even better than she herself was at that age, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to fight men twice his size and skill level in the field! He’s still so young…he needs protection!

She looks up with sudden clarity, her jaw tensing. “I’m going with you!”

“You can’t.” Tobirama instantly scowls, “Your arm—”

“It’s been three weeks, I’m sure it’s practically healed.” Hashirama says, gesturing to Kondoro’s leg, “Kondo-san’s cast just came off too—”

“Ah, but it’s been four weeks for me…”

Hashirama instantly glares at Kondoro, who raises his arms up defensively. “You’re not helping.”

“I knew you’d do this, anija…” Tobirama sighs, “Norito-sensei and Kondoro-sensei say I’m ready for this, and chichi-ue agreed. I’m ahead of all the other boys, and I even have a summons now. I don’t need you to protect me—”

“You’re my little brother, you’ll always need me to protect you!” Hashirama practically yells. “You’re still just a kid–”

“I’m not!” Tobirama yells, and it startles Hashirama into silence. Her brother never raises his voice. “I’m not a kid anymore…I’m a shinobi, starting tomorrow, and you need to start seeing me that way!”

Hashirama clenches her fists, chest aching looking at her tiny little brother. Kawarama looks back and forth between them nervously, too young to really understand the tension his words have caused. Too young. That’s the thing isn’t it, they’re all too young.

“You haven’t even had your obitoki-no-gi ceremony yet.” Hashirama chokes out, and her brother glares at her.

“I’m only a few months away from my seventh birthday, anija, barely any younger than you were when you took your first mission.” Tobirama says a bit more calmly, but Hashirama notes his voice still shakes.

“That’s not–”

“ Stop, anija.” Tobirama cuts in, meeting his gaze head on. He looks…disappointed. “I…I really wanted to believe you’d be happy for me…but I guess haha-ue was right.”

Hashirama flinches, “I–I–”

She wants to deny it, she wants to say I am happy for you, but she can’t. She can’t lie in the face of both her brother’s stares, looking at her so innocently. How can she be happy about this? How can she be happy about sending her little brother into the field, where he’ll soon have to risk his life for a little coin, and stain his hands with blood for the honor of the Senju. 

Finally, she looks away from Tobirama, and she closes her eyes tightly as she sees her brother flinch out of the corner of her eye. 

Suddenly, Kondoro clears his throat, and they all look to see him nodding towards the edge of the clearing. “Not to interrupt this lovely display of sibling drama, but I’m afraid we’ll have company in a moment.”

Hashirama throws her senses out, confirming that there is indeed someone approaching from down the hill, another child going by their smaller figure. Tobirama seems to come to the same conclusion, and even begins to pack up his things and grab Kawarama’s hand.

“We should get going, haha-ue wanted to see us after practice….we’ll see you at dinner tonight.” Tobirama says quietly as he and Kawarama head to leave. He isn’t looking at her, but he sounds so small it makes her gut drop. “...happy birthday anija.”

As they disappear into the foliage Hashirama sighs, gripping her hair tightly and groaning. She hadn’t handled that well had she?

“Not really no.” Kondoro says mildly, and she instantly turns to glare at him as she realizes she’d said her thoughts aloud. Before she can release her anger on him, however, a small voice comes from the opposite side of the clearing.

“Um, excuse me, waka-sama?”

Hashirma turns, scowl still on her face, to find Touka’s friend Hana standing there. The girl looks nervous, fidgeting in place, and she’s holding something behind her back. Instantly Hashirama sighs in annoyance, too anxious to try and play nice with the girl that seemingly has contributed to Touka’s strange attitude towards her lately.

“Hana-chan.” Is all Hashirama says, her voice tight and curt. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, um, I just…” She seems thrown off by Hashirama’s attitude, but all the same she brings her hands in front of her to reveal a small box, wrapped in a colorful furoshiki. “I wanted to wish you a happy birthday before I left…Touka-chan said you’d be here.”

Touka-nee told you where I’d be but didn’t come herself? Hashirama thinks with a frown, chest aching. She can feel something anger and bitter rising up in her that she doesn’t like.

“Thanks.” Hashirama says, and then when Hana holds the package out she sighs and takes it. The girl flinches a bit, looking suddenly crestfallen. “Is that it?”

“Is that it—?” Hana repeats, stuttering and fiddling with her fingers. “Y-yes, I mean, n-no, I uh…I wanted to tell you…I…”

“Tell me what?” Hashirama bites out impatiently, growing tired of the conversation. All she wants is to run after Tobirama, or better yet, run to her father and beg him to let her come on Tobirama’s first mission. The thought has hope rising up in her. 

“I–I…” Hana is still stuttering, and Hashirama balks as she suddenly starts crying. “I’m sorry!”

Immediately Hana runs off, and Hashirama watches in confused horror. She takes a step forward, hand outstretched in alarm but uncertain if she should follow the girl. Was it…something she said? Did someone die?! Hashirama crests the hill, but stops as she sees Touka appear from the tree line.

“Hana-chan why did you run ahead so fas—Hana-chan?!” Touka’s voice suddenly comes from down the hill, a startled cry coming as Hana apparently runs into her. “Wait, what happened–?!”

“Let me go!” Hana sniffles, and Touka flinches back. Hashirama watches as Hana pulls from Touka’s grip on her arm, fully disappearing back towards the village. Then it’s Hashirama’s turn to flinch as Touka’s glare moves to her. 

“What did you do?!” She says harshly, and Hashirama nearly drops Hana’s wrapped gift at the anger in her voice. Touka’s eyes narrow in on the gift, scowling.

“N-nothing! I just…” Hashirama hesitates, feeling guilty suddenly. “She said she had something to tell me but…okay, well, she might have caught me at a bad moment and I…I might have been a bit harsh with her…”

“A bit harsh?” Touka says tightly.

Hashirama rubs the back of her neck, “She was just taking forever to get to the point!”

“You–you’re such an idiot!” Touka huffs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You really know nothing about girls at all!”

That hits Hashirama right where it hurts, and she scowls. “What?”

“She was going to tell you she liked you.” Touka says, fists clenched. “But you just had to be a jerk and ruin it.”

“L-like me?” Hashirama squeaks, head spinning at the unexpected turn in the conversation. “Me and…her?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, it’s insulting.” Touka hisses out. 

“I just…we barely know each other!” Hashirama manages to get out, “And I’m…I mean, it’s just not possible!”

“Why, because you’re the Senju heir and she’s just some nobody Senjirou?” Touka says, eyes burning, “If that’s so you should have let her down easy!”

“What?” Hashirama gapes at Touka, “No! I would never…I don’t care about things like that! I’m just…I’m not interested in romance–”

“Right, because romance is just for silly girls right?” She huffs and looks away, face suddenly crinkling in a strange mixture of pain and frustration. 

“Wait, Touka—!” Hashirama rushes forward to grab her friends arm as Touka turns to run after Hana, but finds herself grasping at air. 

Suddenly, Touka’s foot connects with the back of her ankle, her hand going to Hashirama’s armpit as she twists and redirects Hashirama in one smooth motion that has her landing hard on her back. She gasps up at the leaves above her, seeing Touka look down at her from above, her face conflicted.

“...you really don’t know how lucky you are.” Touka whispers…and then she’s gone. 

“...what just happened.” Hashirama says to the darkening sky above her. 

Kondoro’s face appears above her, long hair falling down to tickle Hashirama’s face, and a sense of deja vu hits her. “Women, right? Always so confusing.”

Hashirama glares at the man, “Are you really saying that to me right now, of all people?”

Kondoro just grins, as if he’s made a great joke that only he understands. “Well aren’t they?”

“...I don’t get it.” Hashirama says with a huff, unwilling to outright admit that Kondoro is right, but she is confused. Would she understand why Touka is so angry at her if she’d been raised as a girl? Or was she just born wrong, not enough girl or boy in her to be fully either one? 

“Is she…really just upset that I made Hana-chan cry?” Hashirama says out loud, more speaking to herself than actually asking Kondoro. “I really didn’t mean to…I didn’t even know she liked me.”

“Hmmm…I don’t think that’s all it is.” Kondoro says, tilting his head as he looks out after where Touka had disappeared into the woods. 

“Then…is it because I don’t return Hana-chan’s feelings?” Hashirama says, sitting up abruptly and groaning. “I can’t help that! I mean…you know why, Kondo-san.”

At that Kondoro looks at her with sudden amusement, eyebrow quirking up on one side. “What, the fact that you’re a girl means you couldn’t like Hana-chan back?”

“Kondo-san! Shhh!” Hashirama hisses, anxiety hitching her breath as she looks wildly around. She’s never heard anyone say it outloud in public before.

“Relax! I’m the best sensor in the clan, I’d know if anyone was in a two mile radius.” Kondoro says with a wave of his hand.

“Still you need to be careful!” Slowly, Hashirama relaxes, heart still beating rapidly as she considers his previous words. “What…what do you mean though? About girls liking girls? I mean…they can’t even get married can they?”

Kondoro snorts at that, “As if marriage means love…love is love, Hachi-chan, regardless of gender.”

Hashirama has to admit the truth of that, considering the strained relationship between her father and her step mother Chiba. From everything Butsuma has ever said about marriage, it’s clearly only a means to an end for him; whether for political gain or the creation of children, love has never been something he’s thought relevant when it comes to marriage. 

Hashirama has never thought much about it, herself…all those stories about romance that she’d found hidden under Touka’s futon, all the teasing the other boys in the clan always did whenever one of them seemed to have a crush…they all seemed to know something she didn’t. The feelings they all talked about, feeling your heart beat faster, your stomach full of butterflies, always thinking of that person even when they’re not around…she’s never felt any of that. 

Maybe something really is wrong with her.

“I hardly know Hana-chan.” Hashirama mutters, “I don’t know if I could like her…”

“Oh, I don’t think Touka-chan is upset that you don’t like Hana-chan. If anything she’s probably relieved.” Kondoro snickers.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hashirama says, confused. Kondoro gives her a look as if she’s slow, and she squints at him as she tries to figure out what she’s missing.

“It means…that I think Touka-chan is more upset that Hana-chan likes you, rather than the fact you don’t like her back…” Kondoro says slowly, and Hashirama’s eyes widen suddenly in realization.

“Oh!” She says, blinking wildly as she looks processes this new information. “Touka-nee likes… ”

Suddenly, every time Touka had glared at her when Hana laughed at one of her jokes comes back to her, every time Touka had seemed suddenly upset when Hana would show up to help or watch Hashirama train. Every sideline giggle and blush from Hana, every glare and pained grimace from Touka, it all replays in her mind as the pieces of the puzzle click into place. She feels suddenly stupid, for not having realized it sooner, blinded by her own lack of understanding of love.

“...you really don’t know how lucky you are.”

Touka’s words echo in her mind, and Hashirama’s chest aches as she remembers the look that’d been on her friend's face. She recognizes it now for what it is, jealousy. She’s seen it from Touka once before, deep in their secret cavern beneath the great Camphor tree, when she’d first asked for her help to sneak into the kunoichi dojo. 

“Kondoro-san, you say love is love, regardless of gender…” Hashirama says, “But I don’t think it’s as simple as you make it sound, is it?”

There’s a long silence from Kondoro then, and when Hashirama looks at him his eyes are distant, looking vaguely sad. “No, I suppose it isn’t…most don’t care if such relationships happen behind the scenes, but the expectation of marriage and children doesn’t simply go away either, especially for…well.”

“...especially for women.” Hashirama finishes for him.

“Yes.” Kondoro sighs. "Already my father is pushing me to consider possible betrothals for Kotone, and she's only just turned thirteen."

"Already?!" Hashirama balks. That's only three years older than she is...could such talks be coming so soon for her and Touka?

"Well, it's not as if she would marry until she's 18, but thankfully her success in the field has allowed me to delay the talks until she's older at least." Kondoro sighs. "My hope is for her to find someone she cares about herself, before the elders can push her into a marriage to a stranger..."

Hashirama thinks of Yano suddenly, who'd married at twenty. She'd mentioned many times how Senjirou women were expected to marry young, unless they proved themselves enough in the field as she did. Soon her uncle Takanoma, who'd just turned 19, would be married to elder Honōma's youngest daughter, Momo, who'd just turned 17. Even Senju women seemed to marry rather early unless they were particularly strong kunoichi like Suzu-sensei, who infamously waited until she was 27 to marry elder Honōma . 

The younger boys in the clan often make fun of the girls for caring about things like romance and crushes...but they have to don't they? Because marriage isn't just a possible distant future for them, but rather an inevitability that is quickly approaching.

She’s jealous not just because Hana-chan likes me, but because she thinks that I could actually be with Hana in a way she couldn't. Hashirama realizes, and a strange mix of emotions rise up in her chest. She's right, too, if I was really a boy I could marry her. Someday both Touka and Hana will be expected to marry and leave the field…a fate that likely awaits Hashirama too if things don't change. Once again, Hashirama is struck by just how much it would solve if she could just tell Touka the truth. If she only knew that Hashirama understood what she’s facing, what she’s feeling, if only she could tell her that they’re the same, that all the privileges Hashirama has are temporary…if only they could talk to each other without lies and masks shrouding things between them. 

Would it fix things? Would it breach this distance between them, or would it only make it worse? If Touka found out she’d been lying all this time about who she is, would she hate her or be relieved to know the truth? Hashirama both desperately wants to know, and also wants to avoid it at all costs.  

She clenches her fists hard enough that she can feel her nails breaking skin. Whether it’s her brother or Touka, it feels like everyone is leaving her behind.

Chapter Text

That night she has a formal birthday dinner with her father, step mother, three brothers and…surprisingly, Kondoro. Hashirama walks to it in a daze from her after training bath, shivering in the chilly october night air, trying to find her calm in the colorful leaves and scent of the smoke from all the burning irori’s in the compound. The world is noisy, despite the relative quiet, because Hashirama can’t seem to focus, the hum of natural energy all around her becoming overwhelming. She goes to the west wing first, finding her rooms empty and dark, and dresses in her best formal outfit as is expected of her. She stops briefly as she puts on her juban, pressing her hands flat down her chest with sudden anxiety. 

Hashirama had briefly noticed in the bath earlier, but her chest…isn’t entirely flat anymore. She always knew it would happen at some point, but she hadn’t expected it somehow, not when she hasn’t even had her first bleeding. It’s not overly noticeable at least, just a slight swell that Hashirama had only ever seen on men who have lived a life of leisure and plentiful food…it’s not enough yet that if anyone saw they’d think she was a girl, but she knows it’s only a matter of time. She’s grateful that the fall weather means she won’t be expected to bear her chest to stave off the heat anytime soon, giving her time to figure out a solution. Surely Yano will have an idea…  

When Hashirama arrives in the central wing where they take formal dinners, dressed in her best formal kimono, hakama and haori, she finds her family already waiting for her, sitting stiffly as Chiba’s maid Lin finishes setting the table. After she’s done, Lin moves to sit in the corner, still and quiet, and Hashirama watches her warily as always. The memories are foggy, but she still remembers the feeling of a bone knife against her throat, the flash of dark eyes filled with killer intent.

“Hashi-kun! You’re finally here!” Kondoro cheers, “I thought for sure you’d drowned in the bath!”

“Welcome, waka-sama.” Chiba says formally, glaring at Kondoro through gritted teeth for his impishness. She’s always been one for quiet, respectful dinners, so she and Kondoro always butt heads on the rare occasions he joins them. “Lin has prepared a special dinner tonight for your birthday.”

“Yes, it looks delicious.” Her father nods at her, distant as usual. “Ah, and happy tenth birthday, Hashirama.

“Yeah, happy birfday!” Itama slurs out, clapping his chubby little two year old hands. His hair is still shaven except for two tufts of white and brown hair at the crown of his head, as is traditional before the age of three; his birthday is coming up soon though, in only a few months, and then he’ll begin growing it out.

“Happy birthday, Anija!” Kawarama follows their youngest brother, before nudging Tobirama when he remains quiet. After a moment Tobirama gives her a quick bow and muttered ‘happy birthday’ clearly still sullen from earlier.

“Thank you, mama-haha, chichi-ue,” Hashirama says with a short bow, then gives her three brothers a more genuine smile and a pinch to Itama’s cheek. “And thank you too, my cute little otouto’s!”

The birthday dinner consists of several complex rich fall dishes including chestnut rice, simmered kabocha squash, a hot taro soup, braised mushrooms, and the finest of it all; slices of marinated grilled pork, a delicacy only eaten on special occasions. Hashirama stares at the pork with vague nausea, eating around it the best she can without drawing attention to herself. Clearly she does a poor job, as soon Chiba gives her a pointed look.

“Is the food not to your liking, waka-sama?” Chiba asks sharply, “Lin and the kitchen ladies put quite a lot of time and effort into this dinner…”

“No, mama-haha.” Hashirama says quickly, “Everything’s delicious. I just…feel bad for the pig.”

“The pig?” Chiba says, seeming genuinely thrown off by her statement. 

Hashirama shrugs, blushing. She doesn’t mind fish so much, but eating birds and land animals always makes her vaguely uncomfortable…she can usually handle chicken, but pig is just too much for her. It doesn’t help that ever since she saw an Uchiha burn someone alive on a mission gone wrong, she simply cannot handle the smell. Slowly she hides said shaking hands under the table. 

“I just can’t help thinking about how cute they are while they’re still alive.” She settles on saying, not feeling like her Uchiha anecdote is appropriate for the dinner table.

“What a… kind child you are.” Chiba says, hiding her mocking smile behind a raised hand. “Feeling empathy for the death of a mere pig…it must be very difficult for you, being a shinobi.” 

The words are kind, but clearly said with faux sympathy, and her father sighs as Hashirama twitches. 

“Kondoro says that Hashirama has done well on every high-profile mission he’s been sent out on these past few months, and his training is going well.” Butsuma says, clearing his throat. “Let the boy be, Chiba.”

Hashirama blinks in surprise. It’s rare for her father to stick up for her against his wife, especially so directly. It makes her hopeful; if he’s in a good mood, it might mean that her request to join Tobirama’s mission will be approved.

“Of course shujin-sama.” Chiba says as she inclines her head, “I meant no offense; if anything it was a compliment. Hashirama must be very strong to maintain such an emotional nature.”

The words are kind on their own, but as pointed as a sharpened kunai when said from Chiba’s mouth. Hashirama gives her ‘thanks’ for the compliments anyways, to diffuse the tension in the room if nothing else, but shares a commiserating glance with Kondoro. They both are not overly fond of dodging Chiba’s social daggers at these dinners.

“Speaking of training,” Kondoro says, “Now that my leg is healed I’ll be leaving on missions again, so you’ll need to keep up with your practice without me for a bit, Hashi-kun.”

Hashirama goes to reply, but her father speaks first. 

“And how much progress has he made?” Butsuma says, “Is it usable in the field yet?”

“We’ve made great progress in the past three weeks; Hashi-kun can sense natural energy up to nearly five hundred feet in any direction now! ” Kondoro says, glancing at Hashirama, “I wouldn’t suggest using it in combat quite yet, however, not unless you're in a secure location with someone keeping watch. I’ve noticed you can get quite overwhelmed by the sensory input and become distracted.”

“Five hundred feet? That’s still quite low is it not?” Chiba says innocently, “Or perhaps I’m just used to Tobirama’s larger range…”

“Haha-ue…” Tobirama whispers at his mother’s side, looking uncomfortable. Hashirama clenches her jaw briefly before pasting on a bright smile.

“Of course, it’s nothing compared to Tobi-kun’s range, but then my little brother is the best at sensing!” Hashirama ignores her step-mother’s gaze with well worn practice. “I could barely sense a hundred feet around me before…I’m sure with practice I’ll continue increasing that range, mama-haha.”

“Do you have any suggestions on how to solve the other issue?” Butsuma asks Kondoro before Chiba can respond, “A distracted shinobi is a dead shinobi, after all.”

Hashirama’s eyes drift to Tobirama again despite herself, the anxiety rising up inside her again. She clenches her chopsticks, focusing on the worn muffled hum of dead wood in her hands so that she doesn’t speak out of turn. 

She needs to bide her time and wait for the right moment to ask her father for permission to join Tobirama’s mission, or he’ll shoot her down immediately.

“Well…more training with sensory deprivation could help, but considering the differences between chakra sensing and natural energy sensing, I don’t think it’ll be as beneficial as it’s been for Tobirama.” Kondoro muses, “Rather...I think, perhaps what Hashirama needs is an anchor.”

“An anchor?” Hashirama asks, thinking immediately of a boat and being confused. 

“Yes, something that you can focus on to drown out the rest of the noise your ability generates.” Kondoro says, “Something that has a unique or perhaps particularly loud ‘sound’ to you…can you think of anything like that?”

“Well…the trees are the loudest.” Hashirama says slowly. “They’re all unique…everywhere I go they’re different.”

“Hmm, that won’t work.” Kondoro hums, “It needs to be something you can carry with you. Something constant that you can always pick out from the noise around you. ”

Hashirama thinks about it, but can’t think of anything that matches that description. “I don’t know, I guess I’ll have to find something like that.”

“Be sure you do.” Butsuma says, “Such an ability to notice genjutsus’ so easily would be a boon in the field, especially if we run into any Uchiha.”

“I’ll do my best, chichi-ue.” Hashirama says haltingly, uneasy and unused the weight of his expectant gaze on her. Usually such looks are reserved for Tobirama.

“Ugh, enough talk of training!” Kondoro says, waving his hand in the air as if to disperse the conversation. “This is supposed to be a celebration! Here, Hashi-kun, I got you this while I was in the capital on my last mission.”

Kondoro’s hand reaches into the sleeve of his kimono and pulls out a small book, handing it to her. Hashirama’s eyes widen as she takes it, flipping it open to see in depth illustrations of various flowers, plants and roots. The cover says, “Handbook of Poisonous and Injurious Plants, and How to Avoid Eating Them.” and she glares at him.

“This isn’t because I ruined that one soup is it?” She pouts, “That was one time!”

“One time which almost put our whole squad down with the shits, just because you mistook an edible mushroom for a poisonous one…”

“ Kondoro-san, while I welcome you here to this table, I would ask that you not sully it with talk of excrement.” Chiba huffs, eye twitching.

“Right, right, apologies Okugata-sama…” Kondoro says dismissively, then leans towards Butsuma with a hand in front of his mouth as he faux whispers. “It was terrible. Trust me, cousin, the wild mushrooms may look tempting, but they’re not worth it!”

Butsuma looks to the side briefly and covers his mouth, clearing his throat distinctly. “Yes well, such a book is a useful present, cousin, I’m sure Hashirama will use it well.”

“...he better…” Kondoro grumbles, and Hashirama would stick her tongue out at him if not for Chiba’s glaring. 

“Hashirama, you have been an adult in the eyes of the clan for three years now, but with age comes growth, and I’ve noticed you’ve long outgrown your old set of armor.” Butsuma says, nodding. “I have commissioned you a new set that will serve you well on the battlefield. It’s waiting for you in your rooms.”

Hashirama bows her head instinctively as she thanks her father for his gift; she isn’t surprised it's something so practical, although now the ‘random’ fitting Yano had her sit for a month ago suddenly makes sense.  

“What a thoughtful gift, shujin-sama.” Chiba interjects, smile pasted onto her pale face. “I hope you enjoy my own gift just as much, waka-sama.”

“I’m sure I will, mama-haha.” Hashirama says, only just barely hiding her sigh.

“I’m so happy to hear that, waka-sama.” Chiba says, “I believe your father said it best, you have been an true shinobi in the eyes of the clan now for many years…and a shinobi of the Senju deserves their own private space, no? So I thought, what better gift to give you?” 

Private space? Suddenly her stomach drops, dread clenching in her chest and clogging her throat. She can’t mean…?

“But Yano-san and Touka-nee–” Hashirama stutters out, glancing towards Kondoro. The man meets her eyes with an apologetic expression that confirms her worst fears.

“Of course, Yano-san has done a great service being your guardian, but both you and her daughter are getting old enough now that I’m sure the east wing is getting…crowded, for them as well as you.” Chiba says, “I’ve already spoken to shujin–sama and Kondoro-san of course, and we’ve come to an arrangement that I believe will suite them much better than staying in the Senju main house…isn’t that right, Kondoro-san?”

“Yano-san and Touka-chan will join my family and I in our home from now on.” Kondoro says tentatively, “My wife and daughter are quite looking forward to having more women in the house…”

“It’s only fitting for you to have a space of your own, someplace you can be alone.” Chiba says, but her voice is distant in Hashirama’s ears.

Alone…alone…alone…

The word echoes in Hashirama’s mind, and she looks over at Kondoro to find him giving her a strained smile.

“It’s for the best Hashi-chan.” He says, putting his hand on her shoulder and squeezing just hard enough to push her back into her seat when she begins to try and stand up. It’s so fast that no one else at the table notices, but firm enough that it breaks Hashirama from her sudden tumultuous emotions. Kondoro looks pointedly at Chiba and her father, and she struggles to control her breathing.

Silence reigns at the dinner table, and all Hashirama can hear is the rushing of blood in her ears. Chiba stares at her with pale grey eyes, a tiny smile upon her face, her body arranged perfectly so as to be polite and elegant at all times. Hashirama has always had a tense relationship with her step-mother, but never has she truly hated Chiba until that moment. 

Kondoro’s hand squeezes again on her shoulder as the silence stretches, and Hashirama takes a sharp breath and forces her face to twitch into a smile.

“Thank you mama-haha. You honor me.” Hashirama manages to grit out.

“Me next, me next!” Itama giggles, rolling backwards to grab what looks like a shoddily wrapped  box. “I picked it!”

Her youngest brother, not quite three, is too young to be expected to have picked a gift for her, but it seems he did all the same and it manages to soothe some of the pain in her chest. Hashirama smiles at him as she takes the gift, opening it to find a small bunny shaped wagashi, the kind that Lin makes for her brother’s birthdays but never hers. She looks up at Chiba and Lin in surprise and a little suspicion, but finds them looking as equally surprised as her. Perhaps Itama asked for them to make it, but didn't tell them it was for her. She pinches Itama’s cheek again as she thanks him and tells him he chose her gift well. Kawarama pushes forward next, shoving an narrow package towards her. It turns out to be a fan which he’d (badly) painted a tiger lily onto, which Itama immediately starts laughing at.

“Ugly!” Itama giggles, causing Kawarama stick his tongue out at the boy.

“Shut up, it is not!”

“Kawarama!” Chiba hisses. “Language!” 

“I love it, Kawa-kun.” Hashirama assures her brother as he apologizes to his mother sullenly. “A tiger lily is a really hard flower to paint!”

“It’s anija’s favorite so I had to.” Kawarama blushes and smiles, shrugging her thanks off, but she can tell he’s happy when she ruffles his hair. When she finally looks at Tobirama, it’s a disappointment but not a surprise when he gives her a new inkstone and horsehair brush with little fanfare. It’s the sort of gift that Chiba would pick out, practical and of good quality but little heart.

“Thank you.” She says to him, sighing when he simply nods at her, “I’m sure i’ll use it a lot, Tobi-kun.”

“Yes you surely will, being in the village for at least another week with that broken arm. Well, I’m glad you’re here to celebrate your birthday in the village, waka-sama, despite the…unfortunate reason for it.” Chiba says after a moment of silence, pointedly looking at Hashirama’s arm. It’s a small dig, but one that Hashirama is still annoyed by. “I suppose that means you’ll be here for Takanoma-san’s marriage. It’s unfortunate Tobirama-kun won’t be able to attend, but he has quite the important mission that will keep him away.”

“I…heard.” Hashirama says tightly, watching Chiba frown at her own words. It seems even her stepmother is not happy with the fact Tobirama is entering the field early. She looks to her father with determination, finally seeing her chance. “Chichi-ue, I actually wanted to–”

“He’s to be married to Hondōma-sama’s youngest daughter; I’ve never met Momo-san, but I hear she’s not much of a kunoichi.” Kondoro interrupts, cutting Hashirama off with a soft but firm voice. “Apparently she’s only been on a handful of missions outside our fief.”

“Yes, I believe Suzu-sensei has mostly kept her from the field.” Butsuma says with a sigh, “Whether it is because she is truly incompetent or simply a way to protect her youngest daughter is uncertain.”

“Hmm, either way, Yano-san says she’s not particularly popular with the younger kunoichis because of it.” Kondoro says, and then looks to Hashirama, “I don’t suppose you’ve heard Touka-chan talk of her, have you? Although, she’s a bit young to have much contact with her I suppose…”

“I…” Hashirama sighs, giving in to the change of topic. “No, Touka-nee hasn’t mentioned her, although I did meet her once when she came to see Madoma and I off on a mission. She seemed…young.”

“As young as I was when I married at seventeen.” Chiba murmurs, smile sharp, “I hear she’s quite happy about the union.”

“I’m sure she is…as is her father.” Kondoro snorts, rolling his eyes as he looks at Butsuma. “Why you approved that marriage I’ll never know, cousin. Having Takanoma as a son-in-law will only add fuel to Hondōma-sama’s ambitions.”

“He and his wife’s ambitions would grow either way.” Butsuma sighs, “If I’d slighted them by refusing the union, they would say I’m stifling the clan’s growth and allowing personal feelings to influence my decisions as clan head. Either way ends with Takanoma gaining support.”

Hashirama notes the dark looks upon her father and his cousin’s faces. She knows that there’s been movement within the side of the clan that prefers Takanoma over her father ever since he came of age, and this union will strengthen the bonds between her uncle and elder Honōma, who is the unspoken leader of said side. Is that why they pushed for Tobirama to join the field early? She grits her teeth, sighing.

“Well, once they’re married it won’t be long until a child comes of them.” Chiba says, “Let us hope for a daughter. There’s enough competition for heir as it is–”

“Chiba.” Butsuma slams his chopsticks down, and gives a look to his wife that has her smile dropping and head dipping briefly. 

Her brother Tobirama’s eyes dart back and forth around the table, making connections that Hashirama never would have been able to make at that age. Her brother is by far the smartest of his generation. It doesn’t make her less worried about him entering the field early though. 

The reminder is enough to jumpstart her heart and fill her with adrenaline. She takes a breath to steel herself, looking at her father dead in the eye and straightening to gain his attention. Opposite her, she can feel Tobirama and Kondoro’s eyes on her, but she presses on.

“Chichi-ue…about Tobirama’s mission.” Hashirama starts, and her father looks at her with narrowed eyes. “I wanted to request that I be added to the mission roster with him, he’s not yet seven after all and–”

“No.” Butsuma says, dismissively. He waves for Chiba to pour him another cup of tea, which she hurries to do, and Hashirama leans forward out of her seat, not yet ready to give up.

“If it’s my arm, Tadashi-sensei said it could be removed early so long as I’m careful with it—”

“I said no.” Butsuma says, more emphatically, and his piercing stare is enough to send chills down Hashirama’s spine and have her flinching back into her seat. After a moment, Hashirama sees Kondoro puts a hand on her father’s shoulder, and the man looks away with a sigh.

“It is not your arm that prevents you from joining this mission...although do not think I am so easily fooled by your lies—Tadashi would not have instructed you as such. The man is nothing if not cautious with the health of his patients.” Butsuma says sternly, taking a sip of tea with closed eyes to seemingly calm and center himself. “This mission is diplomatic in nature, and your presence would only hinder it.”

That stops Hashirama up short, confused. She’s been on plenty of diplomatic missions in the past three years since she’s entered the field, not to mention her yearly journey to Yamashi city with her father to swear fealty to Daimyo Sagara. What sort of mission would require her absence, but Tobirama’s presence?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hashirama huffs.

“Anija, I don’t need you to come on this mission,” Tobirama says, speaking for what seems like the first time all dinner. “I told you, I’m not a baby. I can handle this–”

“Exactly, waka-sama, you insult your brother by insisting like this.” Chiba interjects, causing Tobirama to frown. “Cease this whining now, it’s supposed to be a happy day.”

“Happy?” Hashirama scoffs under her breath, shaking her head. She ignores them, keeping her sight on her father instead. “Is the mission in Yamashi city?”

“Yes.” Butsuma sighs, but says nothing else.

“Then, chichi-ue, I’ve plenty of experience in daimyo Sagara’s court, so why–” Hashirama starts only to stop when her father pinches at the bridge of his nose. In a good mood or not, it’s never a good sign when Butsuma begins to do that.

“Out. All of you.” Butsuma says in a low voice, “I will speak to my eldest alone.”

“Shujin-sama, this involves my son as well, perhaps–”

“Out!” He shouts, cutting his hand through the air hard enough that Chiba flinches beside him. Instantly she dips her head, gathering Itama in her arms and urging a nervous Kawarama from his seat as she heads for the door. Lin hovers behind a hesitating Tobirama, pushing gently at his shoulders until he too follows them. 

Hashirama hunches in on herself, alone in the room with her father and Kondoro. The silence is heavy as Butsuma turns an accusing gaze on his cousin, who lounges with far too much ease beside him.

“Oh you meant me too?” Kondoro says innocently. “But I’m so comfortable here…”

After a brief stare down, Butsuma yields and looks away with a roll of his eyes. Hashirama relaxes some, knowing with Kondoro there her father won’t be quite as volatile.

“This was supposed to be a celebratory dinner in your honor, Hashirama,” Butsuma says, turning his disappointed gaze on her. “and yet you sully it with your disrespect.”

“I–I’m sorry, chichi-ue, I just don’t understand why I can’t—”

 “You can’t join your brother on his mission because I say you can’t.” Butsuma says, “I am the head of this clan and this household, that should be enough for you.”

Hashirama cannot say anything else to that, so she simply bows her head and clenches her hands in her hakama, teeth gritted against angry words she cannot say without getting hit. She glances up through her hair at Kondoro, who taps his fingers against the table and hums with consideration.

“Oh, really, he’s not going to give up until he has a real reason, cousin. Look at the kid, he’s utterly devoted to his brothers…” Kondoro says with a dramatic sigh and tilt of his head. He stares sideways at Butsuma, raising a brow.  “Better than the alternative, hm? Perhaps it’s better if you just tell him.”

Butsuma takes a deep breath, chest puffed and face tense. Hashirama is sure for a moment that she’s going to get reamed out, despite Kondoro being there to gentle her father’s temperament, and she squeezes her eyes shut to brace herself.

“...Fine.” An explosive breath follows, and as she tentatively opens her eyes again she sees her father deflate, looking faintly pleased. She looks away as soon as his gaze returns to her, and hears him huff. “I suppose this could be a good lesson for you, so listen closely.”

“Yes, chichi-ue.” Hashirama bows her head low enough to almost hit the table, coming back up tense as a board.

“Things have been tense in the capital. As you know, the only reason our clan has prospered over the past forty five years is because of Sagara-kō.” Butsuma began, referring to Aomori’s Daimyo, Sagara Nobunari with the most respectful of honorifics reserved for great rulers. “His wars of expansion during my father’s time and my own youth united much of central Hi no Kuni, including Akagawa, Mie, Saruyama and our own Aomori province under his banner. The Akagawa province was the last of such territories to bend the knee…which gained them the worst of the trade agreements…”

Slowly, Hashirama nodded. History had never been her forte when Norito-sensei was teaching her, but she’d heard enough war stories from the Kondoro-san and the other Senju clansmen to know the basics. Things had been different before Daimyo Sagara Nobunari’s expansionist wars, with samurai clans being the dominant military leaders for the Daimyo rather than shinobi. The Senju used to have no set home, traveling from province to province in search of daimyo who sought their services; shinobi for hire, paid a stipend of rice by the daimyo whose land they lived upon in return for ‘loyalty’ in their wars. 

Rice is the lifeblood that keeps the economy of Hi no Kuni going, both the thing that keeps the Daimyo in power and his people’s stomach’s full…but for shinobi it is even more important; after all, a stipend of rice that would feed an average samurai, would have a shinobi starving . Using chakra took a toll on the body, and that toll was nutrients; if they couldn't afford to buy said nutrients, it was practically a death sentence in the field. This weakness of shinobi was easily exploited, and led to many clans fighting for less than they were worth, if only to keep their people from starvation…

That was the reality of most shinobi, until Daimyo Sagara Nobunari took his father’s seat forty five years ago and flipped the status quo on its head; he gave shinobi of the lands he conquered fiefs of their own, putting them on equal standing as his powerful samurai retainers. A fief meant peasants paying them a tithe in rice, which they managed and distributed back to the Daimyo in return for a large portion for themselves. It meant that Hashirama had never had to go hungry, her belly full even if she fought until her chakra was drained.

The stability such favor offered showed all of Hi no Kuni that a well fed and well supplied shinobi was worth at least five samurai, and other provinces quickly followed in Sagara Nobunari’s example…but for many, it was already too late. As he took over provinces, Sagara either slaughtered the Daimyo’s who would not bend the knee and installed his own puppet on their seat, or gave generous boons to those who surrendered and vowed fealty to him. Akagawa province was one such province who fought to the end, never surrendering, and they were harshly punished for it.

“Akagawa province is controlled by Daimyo Heishi Akihiko now, who was put upon the seat as a child while one of Sagara-kō’s ministers acted as regent until he came of age.” Butsuma continued. “Five years ago he turned seventeen, and the regent died peacefully in his sleep; not unusual for a man of his age but certainly suspect timing…ever since, there’s been talk of unrest in Akagawa province, and it seems it’s finally coming to a head.” 

“What do you mean?” Hashirama asks, “I thought you said Tobirama would be going to Yamashi city, not Akagawa province?”

“The predominant shinobi clan of Akagawa province, the Hogoromo, have requested an audience with Daimyo Sagara…They’ll be arriving in Yamashi city within the week.” Kondoro explains with a frown, “They’ve supposedly been banished from Akagawa province, and have come to request a fief within Aomori province.”

“The Hogoromo?” Hashirama says with furrowed brows, thinking of Chiba and suddenly understanding why her father had wanted to have this conversation alone. “Why would they be banished?”

“Because the Hogoromo betrayed the old Daimyo of Akagawa province twelve years ago, allowing Sagara-kō and our forces to win the decisive battle of Jūyūtan valley, in return for a promised fief in Akagawa.” Butsuma sighs, “Did you learn nothing in your studies? Must I explain everything to you?”

As Hashirama blushes deeply at her ignorance, not for the first time regretting her disinterest in history lessons, but thankfully Kondoro cuts in before she can open her mouth and say something to dig her hole deeper.

“It’s no surprise that they’ve suddenly been shut out now that Sagara-kō’s regent is dead and he has no sway over the new Daimyo.” Kondoro says, “Especially considering that province was largely samurai heavy before their defeat, and many weren’t happy with the elevated status of the shinobi clans, including the Hogoromo.”

“Which is exactly why they have come to Sagara-kō for aid now…” Butsuma nods, “If Akagawa province is preparing to pull away from Daimyo Sagara’s influence now that his regent is dead, it could mean war…which means this summit with the Hogoromo is of the utmost importance. They could be either a valuable ally or a dangerous enemy for Aomori province, especially if they should join Tottori province instead.”

Tottori province, lorded over by Daimyo Takahoshi Katsuhito, whose main shinobi clan were the Uchiha. No one needs to explain to Hashirama why that would be bad. They also don’t need to explain why her presence would be an issue at such a political summit in Yamashi city, as it all suddenly clicks into place. 

They’re sending Tobirama exactly because he’s Chiba’s son, to remind them of the alliances and connections the Hogoromo already have within Aomori province. Hashirama’s presence would do the opposite of that.

“Do you understand now, why you must not join your brother on this mission?” Butsuma asks in a pointed manner, almost as if testing her.

“...because it would remind the Hogoromo that our alliance hasn’t gained them an heir within the Senju clan, but rather a second son.” Hashirama says blankly. “...even though that’s not true.”

“To them, it is the truth.” Butsuma says, “And we must act as such until the time is right.”

“...and when will the time be right?” Hashirama asks hesitantly, even as she both does and doesn’t want to know.

For a long moment Butsuma is quiet, considering her with his usual unreadable severe expression. Then he turns away and gets up from the low table, seemingly dismissing her question.

“I think it’s time you head to bed. If you wish to see your brother off tomorrow, you’ll need to wake early.” Butsuma says as he stops briefly at the door. He leaves her and Kondoro alone after that, and Hashirama tries desperately to contain the anxiety bubbling up in her chest.

A hand comes to rest on her shoulder and she startles, looking up to find Kondoro smiling gently down at her.

“Don’t worry, Hachi-chan.” He says, squeezing her shoulder. “It should be an easy first mission for him…well, unless you count how dreadfully boring summits like this are. Besides, I’ll be joining this mission as well, so if anything happens you know you can count on me to keep him safe.”

Hashirama thinks of her own first mission, how Kondoro had held the enemy shinobi down in the banks of the river, his cold eyes staring at her. Hashirama, there can be no survivors. She knows Kondoro will keep him safe…physically at least. But then, every shinobi has to make their first kill sometime, don’t they? It’s not a happy thought, but it is a truthful one.

“...why isn’t chichi-ue going, if this is such an important summit?” Hashirama asks, ignoring the memory. “Or mama-haha, since they’re her family?”

“Your father believes it’s best he is here for your uncle's marriage ceremony…to not attend would be quite disrespectful to elder Hondōma, and possibly further the divide within the clan.” Kondoro says with a sigh, eyes shifting to the door. “As for Okugata-sama, well, the politics of the daimyo’s court make it a dangerous place for a woman, especially one in her condition.”

“In…her condition?” Hashirama says with wide eyes.

Kondoro winks at her, and then holds a finger up to his lips making a quiet ‘shhh’ sound. Then he pats her one last time on the shoulder, and exits.

–

Hashirama walks in a daze back to the east wing, lost in her rioutous emotions. She’s anxious for her brother’s first mission tomorrow, angry at Chiba for taking Yano and Touka from the main house, excited at the prospect of a potential new sibling, saddened at the thought of being all alone… 

She hesitates when she sees the light flickering from inside her home. She knows Yano and Touka will surely be there, waiting for her. Do they know they’ll be leaving soon? The thought of waking up tomorrow and having breakfast with them makes her stomach turn, because it’ll be one of the last times they all share while under the same roof with one another. Have they already begun packing, she wonders, eager to get away from her?

She shakes her head, trying to tell her own mind that it’s being ridiculous, that Yano and Touka don’t really want to leave…but everytime she tries she sees Touka’s angry eyes staring down at her in the forest, telling her she doesn't know how lucky she is.

Movement comes from inside, a figure approaching the door, and Hashirama’s breath catches. She panics at the first sound of the shoji opening, turning in the opposite direction and running. By the time she stops her breathing is labored and her clothes muddied from her slide down the narrow hole that leads to her secret sanctuary beneath the great camphor tree. The hum of the earth around her calms her panicked breathing, but the chill of the cave seeps beneath her haori and makes her bones ache. She huddles in a corner, circulating her chakra to warm her body the way her teachers taught her, finding the motion soothing. The world is abuzz with noise, but for once she doesn't try and ignore it...instead she falls into it gratefully. The song of world is a comfort in a way she doesn't think she'll ever really be able to explain to anyone, especially the song sung by the great camphor tree. 

 No one comes for her, but then the only one who would know to seek her here would be Touka, and she doesn’t think the girl would want to see her right now anyways…

Or maybe it’s Hashirama that doesn’t want to see her, not out of anger, but fear of what she will say. The last time they’d seen each other had ended on a sour note after all.

“Happy birthday to me.” She whispers into the silence. She's lulled fitfully into dreams by the sound of Fukuki's lullaby, in place of the usual sounds of Yano and Touka’s breathing in the room next to hers.

–

The next morning, Hashirama wakes to the sight of a centipede crawling on her arm. She watches its tiny legs move, one by one down the line of its long body, inching its way up her arm slowly but surely. She’s reminded of the one time Touka had seen a centipede in her own room, the shriek that had followed enough to force Hashirama into her room in alarm, only to find her teary eyed in the corner pointing at the tiny bug on the opposite side of the room.

It makes her laugh now as she shoos the centipede carefully off her arm, wondering if she’ll ask Kotone to kill bugs for her now that she won’t live with Hashirama anymore. Sitting up she looks down at herself, finding her formal clothing has been sullied by dirt and mud. She must look like a right mess…

She leaves her hidden sanctuary in a hurry, noting the position of the sun in the sky with a sense of both relief and anxiety. It’s early enough that she hasn’t missed Tobirama’s departure, but not early enough that she has time to go home and clean herself up. Quickly she henges her clothing into something more suitable, a clean but basic kimono and hakama pants. To a trained eye she’s sure the henge will be noticeable, but it’s unlikely anyone will call her out on it.

As she approaches the gates of the compound which lead out into the rice fields, she slows from her jog and ducks behind a nearby tree. A crowd of people have gathered to send their loved ones off, one of the largest that Hashirama has seen in recent days. Chiba, Itama, Kawarama, and Butsuma are unsurprisingly there speaking to Tobirama, and then to the side she notes Yano, Touka, Kotone and her mother are saying their goodbyes to Kondoro and elder Shibuma. On the opposite side of the clearing are elder Hondōma, his wife Suzu, daughter Momo, grandson Madoma and his soon to be son-in-law Takanoma. They all appear to be speaking with  elder Hondōma's son, Norito. A few Senjirou and Senju women are also milling about, saying goodbye to their respective husbands and sons.

Hashirama isn’t particularly pleased Norito-sensei is going on her brother's first mission, considering she thinks he's a bit incapable, but she takes some solace in knowing that he's professional if nothing else; whatever his allegiances, he wouldn’t dare let personal issues get in the way of a mission this important to the Senju clan as a whole. 

For a moment she’s struck by a sudden impulse to henge herself into something small, like the centipede from this morning, to hide away in Norito's bag. She's sure he wouldn’t notice her considering his subpar sensory skills. Perhaps she’d even get a mile out from the village, and by that point maybe it’d be too late for them to send her back…she could talk to Kondoro and elder Shibuma, convince them she could remain in henge the whole time as some little known Senjirou shinobi no one would blink an eye at…

Her hands drift up to form the dog sign, considering, but then she looks up and startles to find Tobirama’s piercing red eyes staring right at her, and when she glances to the side Kondoro’s meet her own too. She sighs, lowering her hands as she slowly moves out from behind the tree. 

Of course that was a stupid idea, She admonishes herself, This mission has two of the best sensor-nin in the whole clan on it. Norito might not notice me right away, but they certainly would.

Hashirama hesitates for a moment, glancing between Tobirama and Kondoro, before moving to join the latter. She feels a stab of guilt when she sees her brother frown, but she just…needs a moment to gather herself before saying goodbye to him. 

“Bocchan–” Touka tries to catch her gaze as she gets close, but she avoids her eye in favor of Kondoro’s.

“Kondo-san, Shibuma-sama, good luck on your mission.” Hashirama says, side stepping Touka to smile at Kondoro and his father. She notes Kotone look between them with a brief frown, but ignores it.

“Hashi-kun! Don’t look so doom and gloom, I told you it’ll be fine.” Kondoro says, pausing as his hand goes to pat her arm for just a moment before switching to ruffling her hair. Hashirama sees Yano frown at her clothing then, and knows they’ve surely both noticed her henge…she glances nervously at Yano, knowing she’ll likely get a talking to once she sees the state of her clothing—

—or, will she? Hashirama pauses to consider, realizing that Yano won’t be in charge of bringing her laundry to the cleaning maids anymore, that she won’t be the one to stop her and straighten her kimono before she leaves the house in the morning, of the one to lecture her as she mends the new tears in her training clothes. She takes a breath full of emotion, pushing the feelings to the side.

“I hope so.” Hashirama manages to say after too long of a pause. She gives Kondoro a smile when he frowns, but she’s sure it’s not convincing considering the look that he shares with his father a moment later.

“Why don’t we give them a moment?” Elder Shibuma says with a genial smile, and Hashirama looks at him in confusion. Yano, Kotone and Kondoro’s wife Ami all nod however, seeming to understand something Hashirama doesn’t, while Touka just frowns.

Elder Shibuma takes his daughter-in-law's and Yano's shoulder in one hand each, guiding them and the young girls towards the gate. Kondoro turns and heads in the opposite direction, clearly expecting Hashirama to follow, and she does so with a huff. They stop once the rest of the assembled men and women are a ways away but still visible, their conversations muffled and distant.

“Kondo-san, I’m fine.” Hashirama huffs, “I’m not going to try anything if that’s what you’re worried about…I’m not that stupid.”

Not that I didn’t consider it… She thinks wryly to herself, as Kondoro raises a disbelieving brow.

“I know you won’t…not with two of the best sensors in the clan here, anyways.” Kondoro says with a chuckle, as if he could read her thoughts. “No, I just wanted to talk for a moment…for Tobi-kun’s sake if nothing else.”

“Tobi-kun?” Hashirama asks, surprised.

Kondoro nods, facing her and squatting so he can look more directly in her eyes. Hashirama is tall for her age, but Kondoro is like a tree compared to her sapling. 

“He’s good at hiding it, but I can tell he’s nervous. Just like you were at that age, cracking jokes to try and hide it.” Kondoro chuckles, “Point is…Tobirama needs his older brother right now.”

“I–I tried!” Hashirama says in frustration. “I tried to help, but he didn’t want me to–”

“Asking to come along was helping you , not him, Hashirama.” Kondoro interrupts severely. “Think, for a moment. You’re his older brother, the strong one, the one he’s always looked up to…and you go and tell him he’s not ready for this? How do you think that makes him feel?”

Hashirama breathes around sudden tears, and she hates how emotional she always is, how quick to cry. “I…I guess it must make him feel bad?”

“Take it from someone who was once the angry little brother…he wants to be like you.” Kondoro says, and it hits Hashirama like a hammer. “He wants you to be proud of him, happy for him…he wants you to be your equal, not someone for you to protect.” 

“But…he’s my little brother.” She whispers. “I can’t not want to protect him.”

“No matter who is younger or older, all siblings want to protect each other…I know I wish more than anything I could have protected mine…” Kondoro gives a bittersweet half smile at that, eyes going distant before he shakes it off. “This world is unkind, it takes what it wants, even when we beg it not to; no matter how hard you try, you cannot always be there for him, Hashirama…in the end, all we can really do is train them to protect themselves while they’re not with us…and love them while they are.”

The words clog in Hashirama’s throat, and she finds she can’t speak so she simply nods. Kondoro pats her cheek, and then walks off, expecting her to follow once she’s gotten ahold of herself.

When eventually she finishes wiping her face of tears, she changes her henge to hide the redness of her eyes and heads towards where her family stands. As she approaches she sees Kawarama holding back tears, while Itama is openly crying. Chiba holds Tobirama to her chest, petting his hair hard enough that it looks uncomfortable. Finally she pulls away, holding Tobirama's face between her hands.

“Have you double checked your weapons pouch? What about Fuwa-chan, is she already summoned? Make sure you have her scouting for you, she’ll notice what many shinobi can’t–” Chiba says, and as she gets closer Hashirama sees the usually implacable woman’s face is as stained with tears as her own is beneath the henge. She’s only mildly surprised, but it's more that she’s let her self look so unkempt in public; Chiba may be a cold woman, but Hashirama has never doubted she loves her brothers.

“Haha-ue, I’ll be fine.” Tobirama says as he pulls out of her arms with a huff, a badly hidden blush on his face. “You know I already double checked everything, you watched me do it this morning.”

“Yes, but it never hurts to check again.” Chiba says with a sniff, her voice clearly trying to sound stern but failing spectacularly. “You never know what you’ll come across on the road, you need to be prepared—”

“Chiba.” Butsuma finally cuts in sharply. “Leave the boy, you’re causing a scene.”

Chiba pulls back, her face falling and then fully shuttering when she finally notices Hashirama. “Apologies, shujin-sama, but a mother can’t help but worry…”

The words do little to soften Butsuma, as his usual severe frown doesn’t waver. “You should worry more what those around you think, seeing you treating him like a babe. He is a shinobi now, and must be treated as such. If you wish to mother anyone, then mother Itama. The boy’s crying is drawing eyes.”

Hashirama watches with some amount of pity as Chiba’s jaw clenches and she quickly hides her shaking hands in her long maple leaf strewn kimono sleeves. “Of course shujin-sama, then I…I will let you speak with your brother, Tobirama-kun...”

Chiba leans forward and cups her son’s face one last time, before sighing and leaving. Lin is standing behind her, holding said crying Itama, and she quickly moves towards them, after one last distrustful look at Hashirama. 

“Tobi-kun.” Hashirama says finally, drawing Tobirama’s attention towards her, expression hopeful but guarded. Hashirama takes a deep breath, and smiles. 

“You’re going to do great out there.” She says. “You’re strong, and you’re smarter than I was at your age and one of the best sensor-nin in the clan already; I believe in you…just…come back safe, okay?”

She falters at the end, unable to help herself, but it seems that the worry in her voice is enough to soften Tobirama. He gives her a brief nod, eyes warm now and shoulders straight.

“Don’t worry about me, anija.” Tobirama says, “I can do this.”

Hashirama watches her brother’s back disappear out of the gate, heading towards the crowds of shinobi down the path that splits their rice fields, Chiba silently crying beside her as she tries to calm Itama, her father already heading back to the main house. She makes brief eye contact with Chiba, something strange and unspoken passing between them. For once, the expression isn’t filled with distrust or annoyance. 

“He’ll be fine.” Chiba whispers, voice shaking. Next to her, Kawarama hugs her legs, and in her arms Itama seems to have cried himself to sleep. “He’ll come back to us.”

“Kondo-san and Shibuma-sama will protect him.” Hashirama agrees, surprising herself. She has no reason to comfort Chiba, considering the way she’s treated her but…but she can’t help but say something when she knows exactly how she feels. 

Chiba looks at her with guarded eyes, but after a moment she nods with a vaguely grateful look. They say nothing else to one another, but there’s a sort of quiet understanding in the air that’s never been there before; united by a shared pain and worry for a boy too young to be sent out into the field.

–

Hashirama is the last one standing at the gate, long after the rest of the group has left. Chiba had left long ago, stopping only briefly with a conflicted expression on her face as she passed before continuing on without saying anything. She sits in the middle of the dirt road, staring out blanking through the gate as the sun reaches high in the sky; if she stands she’s sure she’ll be overcome with the need to run after them.

“Hachi-chan.”

Hashirama startles from her thoughts at the name, knowing immediately it’s Yano. She glances around, but knows she wouldn’t refer to her by that name unless she was sure no one else was around. They are at the edge of the village, and the only people around are some distant farmers in the rice fields beyond the gate; she quickly settles again and thumps her head on her knees, trying to control her rapid breaths.

She’s seen Kondoro and her father leave from those gates dozens of times now, but it’s never felt like this before. Perhaps it’s because he’s so young, or it’s his first mission, or even just because he’s her little brother, but she can’t stop feeling like her heart is going to beat right out of her chest if she breathes wrong.

“How do you do this?” She says, closing her eyes, “How do you watch everyone leave you behind, knowing they’re going out into danger?”

Yano is entirely silent when she sits beside Hashirama in the dirt, the only sound being her gentle sigh. Hashirama turns her head, peeking out with one eye at the woman who’d raised her practically as her own. Yano looks weary, her straight blue black hair loose around her shoulders and a bit messy, her brown eyes deepened with shadows and old memories.

“I wish I could say you get used to it but…you never really do.” She says in a whisper. “I could hardly bear it when you had your first mission…I dread the day my Touka-chan will be the one leaving out those gates. Then I really will be alone here, waiting.” 

Hashirama carefully leans into the woman’s side, feeling fragile and hating it. She glares at the cast on her broken arm, gripping it hard. “I wish I could be going with him. I feel so weak and useless waiting here for him to come back. I can’t do anything from here…”

“You’re not useless, and certainly not weak ; if anything it takes great strength to see your loved ones off with a smile, rather than tears.” Yano’s arm comes up around Hashirama’s shoulders, leaning her cheek atop her head. “A way to give them strength with words and kindness, rather than blades. My…my late husband Haruma taught me that…”

Hashirama thinks of all the women who’d stood at the gates and waved the men away, all the times Yano had done the same for her or Kondoro or Kotone. Often the only thing that kept Hashirama going on long missions was remembering that smile, remembering she’d get to see it again if the mission succeeded. She thinks of how someday she might be one of those women, if her father really followed through with his plan to oust her from her seat as heir. 

“Strong or not, it sucks.” Hashirama pouts, and Yano snorts a surprised laugh.

“I know.” She says, looking back towards the village, “It helps though, to have friends and family around you, someone to help lessen the load.”

“...Touka doesn’t want to see me.” Hashirama murmurs, knowing what she’s implying. Or maybe I don’t want to see her…

Yano sighs, silent for a moment before she says, “We missed you last night; you never came home. Where did you go?”

“Does it matter?” Hashirama pulls away from her embrace, standing and crossing her arms. “You’ll be leaving soon anyways, right?”

“...not for a few more days.” Yano says gently, standing as well. Hashirama keeps her back to her, but she can feel her eyes on the back of her neck. “You and Touka should speak before then–”

“Sorry, I...I have to go. I forgot I’m—” Hashirama says abruptly, interrupting her. She moves away when Yano tries to reach for her arm, looking towards the forest around them. “—I’m late for training.”

“...Alright.” Yano says after a moment, an undercurrent of hurt in her voice. She clearly knows Hashirama is lying, considering all the people in the clan who would usually hold training sessions—elder Shibuma, Kondoro, Norito—are heading off on the mission to the capital. 

“I’ll see you at dinner tonight, then.”

Hashirama hesitates, looking over her shoulder at Yano with conflicted emotions.

“...sure.”

–

She doesn’t see Yano at dinner that night. She does, however, stop by the house to grab several clean sets of clothing, and then runs away to hide in her sanctuary. She train herself into the ground until she can hardly walk, collapsing into a heap in the cave deep beneath the great camphor tree. The cool rock feels good against her burning skin, although her back could do with something a bit softer to lie on. Sleeping on an uneven rocky floor for a second night in a row is sure to have her waking up in pain tomorrow, but despite that she still can’t bring herself to leave the cave and walk home.

Maybe it makes her a coward, but she just can’t face everything right now, she’d much rather stay here and pretend everything is alright for a little while longe—

“I knew you’d be hiding here.”

Hashirama jolts up, eyes wide and startled as she finds herself staring at a pissed off looking Touka. The girl pulls herself fully from the small hole that leads up to the surface, dusting herself off with an annoyed look.

“Ugh, good thing I came from training, if I came down here in a kimono it’d be ruined…”

”Touka—“

”Oh, now you’re talking to me?” She says, crossing her arms. “I honestly thought you’d turn and try to run as soon as I showed up.”

Hashirama grimaces, “Aren’t you mad at me? I figured you’d prefer this.”

At that Touka frowns, looking to the side before scoffing. “What, because I got angry at you for how you treated Hana-chan? Oh, poor bocchan, can’t take even a little criticism without running away—“

”I’m not—I didn’t run away!” Hashirama says, standing up fully to face her eye to eye. She’s surprised by the sudden anger rising up inside her. “And don’t act like you’re not the one who is avoiding me , always leaving early or taking dinner at Kotone’s.”

“I’ve been busy–”

“Sure.” Hashirama scoffs, and then looks away with a nervous expression. “Do you…do you hate me now?”

“I—“ Touka looks away, frowning. “I don’t hate you—“

”If you don’t hate me, then why won’t you just tell me why you’re angry? Stop pretending you’re not!” Hashirama says, beginning to pace and pull at her hair. “I’m sorry I was rude to Hana, but I can’t help that I don’t have a crush on her and it’s not my fault she likes me and not you!”

Instantly Touka’s face flames bright red, her sharp chin dropping in shock. “M-m-me?! I don’t–that’s not–It…it was never about being rude to Hana, or-or whatever stupid thing you're thinking.”

“If it’s not that, then what?” Hashirama says in frustration. 

But Touka just scoffs and shakes her head, seeming to deflate. “It doesn’t matter–”

“Is it about what happened with Suzu-sensei? I already apologized for that–” Hashirama blunders on, ignoring Touka’s denials. “I said I was sorry for almost getting you kicked from kunoichi training, alright? And you said we were fine, but clearly we’re not–!“

“How can it be fine?!” Touka interrupts, clenching her fists. “How can you think that just because you say sorry that I can forget I almost lost my one way to push back an arranged marriage in this clan? My one way to get out of this damn village and make something of myself!”

It’s quiet for a moment, the only sound being her voice echoing against the cave walls. Hashirama feels her chest ache with guilt and she takes a step forward. “Touka-nee…please, isn’t there something I can do to fix this?”

Touka takes several deep breaths, clearly centering herself as her face smoothes out into it’s usual serious but placid mask. “There’s nothing to fix. I guess I just…I need some time.”

“Would you stop that?” Hashirama cuts in, getting to her feet. “It’s like you…you keep pulling away from me! Every time I try to fix this you act like everything is fine, but you’re lying. ”

“Oh, please, don’t act like I’m the only one lying .” She says, stepping forward until she can harshly poke Hashirama in the chest. “You’ve always kept me at arms length, all I’m doing is returning the favor!”

”What are you talking about?!” Hashirama scoffs, slapping her boney finger away. “I’m always the one begging you to call me more familiarly, but you always insist on bocchan whenever we’re in public—“

”Becuase it’s proper! I’m not like you, I can’t get away with being impolite, or talking out of turn, or even looking fucking disheveled!” Touka says, advancing forward and poking her for each point as Hashirama gapes at her for swearing. “Because girls aren’t supposed to be rude , and girls aren’t supposed to be loud , and girls aren’t supposed to be ugly, even after training for hours on end!”

”Touka—“

”No! No, I’m tired of you acting like you’re the only one hurt here!” Touka says, and Hashirama notes with alarm there are tears coming to her eyes. “You act like we’re family, like I’m your sister and we can tell each other anything…but you’re the one that’s keeping secrets from me, you’re the one lying!”

Hashirama flinches, caught out. For a moment she stares at Touka in horror, wondering how she could possibly know. “You…you know? How did…How did you find out?”

“I knew it.” Touka says, face falling. “I knew you were keeping something from me!”

”What?”

Touka rolls her eyes. “I didn’t ‘find out’ anything…I could tell you were keeping something from me, I just don’t know what it is, or why.”

Relief and disappointment hit Hashirama, leaving her breathless.

”Is it because I haven’t entered the field yet? Is it because you don’t think kunoichi’s can keep secrets? I hear a lot of men in the clan talk about women not being fit for the war room because they’re such gossips.” Touka says, “Or maybe, because you can’t see me as a real kunoichi, just like you can’t see Tobirama-kun as a real shinobi?”

”No!“ Hashirama denies, groaning with frustration at Touka’s disbelieving eyes. 

“You said if there was anything you could do to fix it, you would.” Touka says around a sniffle. “So then, this is it. I want to know what you’ve been lying to me about.”

“That’s not…it’s not a secret I can so easily tell, Touka-nee, I swear I’m not keeping it because I want to!” Hashirama says, reaching forward to try and grab at Touka’s arms as she turns away. She gasps when her friend pulls away sharply, wiping at her face as her backs turned to her.

”Do you not trust me?” Touka asks, and Hashirama shakes her head immediately.

”I do, but you don’t understand…” Hashirama groans, “Ugh, please, can’t we just fix this some other way? Why are you being such a g—“

”Such a what?” Touka bites out, as Hashirama bites her tongue. “Such a girl? Such a nag? ”

Hashirama bites her tongue, annoyed with herself. The boys and other shinobi she’s around everyday on missions or in training say exactly that all the time, about wives and sisters and kunoichi teammates. She hadn’t meant to say it, but it’s just slipped out, a force of habit born of hearing it constantly.

”You know, I never put much stock in Suzu-sensei’s lectures about how girls and boys can’t be friends…but maybe, in a way she was right.” Touka says around a laugh, “She’s always saying shinobi get whatever they want in this clan because it’s owed to them just for being born, while kunoichi have to fight to prove they deserve it at all.”

”That’s…I’m not like that, Touka, we’re not like that.”

”Aren’t we?” She whispers softly, “Did you not just expect me to help you learn Rapid Fist, risk my position as a kunoichi, all while offering nothing in return?”

Hashirama winces, realizing she’s unable to deny the words. She could have easily asked for Touka to teach her in return for teaching her the Way of Roots, but she hadn’t had she? No, rather she’d tried to follow Touka and sneak into the dojo first, only asking once she’d been caught and even then not offering anything in return…why hadn’t she?

”See, you can’t even deny it.” Touka says, sounding vaguely sad. “It’s…it’s okay, really. I understand. Maybe this is just what it means, for men and women to grow up…our place in this world is just…too different.”

Hashirama feels her stomach drop. How did they get here? How did this conversation get so out of her control? When she says nothing more, struck speechless with anxiety, she sees Touka’s face drop in disappointment, as if she’d been waiting for Hashirama to deny it. 

“Right. Well. Friends or not, we’re still family in a way.” Touka says, face suddenly shuttered and voice flat. “Okaa-san will be hurt if you miss our last day in the east wing, so no more hiding in here. If you’re not back home tomorrow for breakfast I’ll come back and drag you out myself.”

Touka turns to head back to the entrance to the cave, and Hashirama feels paralyzed by fear. Every moment in her life that Yano had told her how important it was to protect her secret, to never let anyone know, flashes through her mind. It feels nearly impossible to open her mouth and just say it, tell Touka that she’s wrong, that Hashirama does trust her, that she can’t bear the thought of losing her as a friend which is exactly why she’s kept this secret from her. Hashirama has been so good, so perfect at living this lie, how can she possibly tell the truth? 

But then, how can she live with herself if she lets Touka leave like this? Let their friendship die with her thinking Hashirama looks down on her, like so many other men in this clan?

Suddenly she bites her lip hard enough to break skin, the pain breaking her from her fear born paralysis in the way it’s broken her from genjutsu in the past. She lurches forward on shaky legs to place herself in between Touka and the exit, throwing her arms out to block her.

Touka’s eyes are red and teary when their gaze meets “What are you—“

“I’m a girl!” Hashirama shouts, slamming her eyes shut as panic races through her veins. It feels wrong to say it out loud, forbidden, tabboo. She feels instantly alert, like the moment of stillness facing off against a new enemy, waiting to see who will attack first. Her heart is so loud in her ears she feels like she can hardly hear Touka’s response.

“Are you… mocking me?” Touka’s voice cracks. When Hashirama’s eyes open she sees her best friend’s face reddening with hurt and anger, and she panics. She’s not particularly proud of what she does next, but it’s the only thing she can think of to convince her friend, so she—

Well. She pulls her pants down.

”Wh–what are you doing !” Touka instantly says, turning fully around and covering her eyes with a screech.

“I’m proving it! I’m proving I’m not a boy!” Hashirama squeaks out. “I promise I’m not trying to make fun of you!”

“Kami-sama, are you crazy?! ” As she says this, Touka turns carefully around, hands still over her eyes as she kicks out blindly at Hashirama’s legs. “Pull your pants up already!”

“No, not until you believe me!” 

“Okay! Okay I believe you!” 

“…really?”

”Yes!” Touka says.

Hashirama narrows her eyes at her, knowing instantly that she’s lying by the tick in her jaw. She reaches down and grabs her pants, rustling them briefly. “Okay, I’m clothed.”

”Good.” Touka sighs in relief, and her hands drop, her eyes automatically looking downwards and widening. Her hands come up over her eyes with a flash and she squeaks. “You lied!”

”I had to! You didn’t believe me!”

”I said I did!” Touka squeaks out. 

“Yeah but you were lying again!” Hashirama barks back accusatorily.

”…Alright, yes I was lying.” Touka says begrudgingly. “But I’m not now, so pull your pants up!”

Slowly, Hashirama pulls her hakama back up for real this time, tucking her clothes back into place. 

“…how is this possible.” Touka says, once Hashirama has confirmed she’d covered once more. She carefully lowers her hands, staring at Hashirama like she’s a stranger, and it makes her squirm inside with discomfort. “You really…I mean you’re a girl?”

”When I was born, the Senju clan needed an heir to keep the peace.” Hashirama says finally, nervously fiddling with her hem. “My father needed a son for that, so I…became a son.”

”This is…this is insane.” Touka says, looking Hashirama up and down briefly before looking away with a shake of her head. “How have you kept this a secret? If anyone in the clan found out…Hondōma-sama or your uncle…”

Touka freezes, eyes suddenly wide as she looks up at Hashirama.

“Who else knows?” 

”Um. Yano-san, Kondoro-san, Tadashi-sensei…and my father obviously…”

Touka’s eyes dart around, looking at nothing as she connects a thousands strange coincidences and odd moments. “That’s why you always take your baths in private…and why you don’t see anyone but my grandfather when you’re injured…and why Yano always does your fittings, even when she would usually let me do it—”

Touka looks up with a gasp.

”The genjutsu around the kunoichi dojo.” Touka points at her, “You didn’t have to break it, because it never triggered for you at all!”

”Uh, yeah…” Hashirama laughs nervously, shrugging. “I really did find it because of my sensory ability though…you know my sense of direction; without it I probably still wouldn’t have found it, even with you bringing me to the general area.”

Touka rolls her eyes, “I can’t believe you. Are you actually an idiot?!”

”Hey! I never go to that area, it’s not my fault!”

”Not that! Honestly, did you not think of how dangerous that was for you!” Touka hisses, “You’re lucky Suzu-sensei thought I’d shown you the door, or she would have realized you were a girl…”

Touka trails off, looking thoughtful, and Hashirama simply shrugs again, uncertain how they’d gone from Touka being upset she was keeping secrets to her being upset she was stupid in how she kept that secret.

”It was the perfect out, blaming me, and you…” Touka looks up slowly, a strange look in her eyes as her voice softens. “You still stood up for me.”

”Of course I did.” Hashirama says simply. She flounders as Touka suddenly scowls fiercely, “Wait, I-I’m sorry? Should I…not have? I’m so confused.”

”You idiot.” Touka hisses, and then leaps forward and pulls her into a tight hug.

Hashirama gasps, but falls into it after a moment of tenseness. Tentatively she lays her head on Touka’s slightly taller shoulder, feeling hope rise warm  and fuzzy in her chest. “Does…does this mean you forgive me? For real this time?”

Touka pulls back, wiping at her face as she clears her throat. “I…I’m sorry.”

”For…being angry at me?” Hashirama asks slowly, confused and off balance.

”No.” Touka sniffs. “I’m still angry at you, because you make stupid choices. Including thinking pulling your pants down was the best way to convince me you weren’t lying.”

”I panicked!”

”Also, putting yourself in danger by almost revealing yourself to Suzu-sensei, the wife of the man who’s the main supporter of your uncle for clan head—!”

”What else was I supposed to do!” Hashirama groans, “Just five minutes ago you were about to stop being friends with me over that, and now you’re upset I did it at all?!”

Touka hesitates, mouth opening and then closing. She crosses her arms and her face crumples. “I…I was wrong to be so quick to end things, I thought...I thought you weren’t taking what happened seriously, that you just wanted to apologize or do me a favor and we’d move on like nothing happened; like I should just forgive you because everything turned out fine, like I should forget you almost…almost ruined my life.“

Hashirama flinches, moving back, but this time it’s Touka who reaches out and pulls her closer. 

“But in the end,” Touka whispers, “it turns out we almost ruined each other’s lives, didn’t we.”

”The only thing that would have ruined it is if you started hating me.” Hashirama chokes out, overcome suddenly with tears. “I didn’t expect you to just forgive me because I apologized, I know I screwed up by pushing you to help me when you clearly didn’t want to…and then I got you in trouble…whatever you need me to do for you to forgive me, I’ll do it Touka, I’ll give you all my tempura for a year, or no, that’s stupid, I’ll teach you the Way of Roots—.”

“Alright, alright, I forgive you.” Touka laughs, despite the wobble of her own chin. Hashirama instantly falls into ugly crying, which just makes Touka pull her closer and laugh wetly. “Guess we’re both idiot’s…now stop crying before you make me start too.”

—

Afterwards, both their eyes suspiciously red and swollen, Touka and Hashirama delve deeper into the cave and clean themselves up in a small still pond, both of them sweaty and dirty from their respective training during the day. It’s shallow enough to only reach their waists, and reflects the fluorescent stones in the ceiling above it enough to make the whole cave glow blue.

The water is cold, but Hashirama hardly notices it. She’s far more focused on the fact that this is the first bath she’s had with another person, and she really has no idea how to act. She keeps her eyes down, awkwardly avoiding even looking in Touka’s direction until they’re done and redressed in the clean clothes Hashirama had brought down earlier.

”You know I’ve tried finding this place on my own before…” Touka says, staring up at the flickering blue glow above them. “I looked everywhere around the base of Fukuki-sama, but all I found was dirt and roots. But I couldn’t find the hole you showed me again until tonight…”

”Really?” Hashirama murmured, looking around the cave with a sudden wariness. 

“Yeah, and I looked everywhere in the archives, and there’s nothing on this place.” She tells Hashirama with one eyebrow raised, “In over forty five years, not once has anyone found this cave. Isn’t that amazing?”

“More like weird.” Hashirama says, squinting suspiciously at a rock by her arm, “Maybe it’s haunted by a ghost.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Touka dismisses, “I theorize it must be because the tree’s natural energy somehow disguises the entrance to it from prying eyes. But you, who can ‘see’ natural energy, noticed it right away.”

“Right. Haunted.” Hashirama says seriously as she shivers.

“Hauntings are for dead souls and yokai. Fukuki-sama is a sacred tree.” Touka says, “I’m not one for superstitions, but everyone in the clan believes this camphor tree is so ancient it’s become a kami, watching over the land.”

In a rare moment of teasing, Touka nudges Hashirama in the ribs with her elbow. “Maybe Fuku-sama just likes you.”

“I thought you were the kami-sama here?” Hashirama teases back, just to see her eyes roll.

They delve back into silence again, Touka becoming still in a way that Hashirama knows means she’s thinking deeply about something. Finally she looks over at Hashirama, looking worried.

”What will happen when you…” Touka clears her throat, brows furrowing. “Sorry, it’s weird to talk about this stuff with someone I thought was a boy until today…”

”No, it’s fine.” Hashirama laughs awkwardly, “It’s…weird for me too, honestly. I’ve never really talked with anyone but Yano about being a girl, and even then barely .”

”Well, surely you’ve talked about what will happen when you…flower?” Touka says, and Hashirama grimaces. “It tends to happen later for girls training to be kunoichi, and probably especially for you since you started training so young. But it will happen eventually, Hashirama; you need to be ready for it.”

”I know…” Hashirama sighs, “…Yano says kunoichi know ways to hide the scent of such a thing in the field from trackers.”

”We do.” Touka says hesitantly, “But that’s not…I mean eventually there will be no hiding it, surely? Unless you get particularly lucky and your figure stays straight as a board forever…”

Hashirama’s hands come up to cross over her chest in discomfort. Her swelling chest from the bath flashes in her mind and she frowns. “What do I do if it doesn’t?”

“…some girls bind their breasts when they need to pass as young boys for a mission. Or if you’re like Kotone and have good control you could keep a henge up.” Touka says, “You might have to sooner than you’d think. You have a boyish face now but…well, I couldn’t pass as a boy, not without a henge.”

Hashirama pouts as she side eyes Touka’s profile, her long face and delicate pointed features, eyes upturned and mouth small and elegant. “Yeah, yeah, you’re pretty, I get it.”

Touka glares at her, “I’m being serious here…it’s more than just your appearance, Hashirama. At some point Oyakata-sama will need to arrange a marriage for you, as heir, and…well, you’ll never father a child.”

Hashirama knows what Touka is getting at; she can’t lie forever, not while she’s heir and has so many eyes on her. She looks away, hands fisting at her side. “My father says eventually, when things are more stable in the clan, that he’ll…fake my death, and send me off somewhere until I’m older, and name Tobirama heir.”

” What.”

”Then when I come of age he’ll bring me back, under a different name, and say I’m some bastard child or a forgotten Senjirou daughter.” Hashirama continues, laughing, “…I think he hopes I’ll look different enough by then that no one will realize who I really am. That or he’ll use me as a way to make some political marriage.”

“That’s…that’s not a terrible plan, actually, as much as I hate to admit it.” Touka sighs, “Most people wouldn’t make the connection between a grown woman and a male child whose long been dead; and, if Oyakata-sama names you his bastard any similarities will be blamed on familial resemblance.”

”Yeah…” Hashirama says with a grimace.

”The only question is when he plans to do it.” Touka says thoughtfully. ”He likely wouldn’t want to send you away until Tobirama is old enough to stand on his own as a shinobi, perhaps one of your younger brothers as well…”

”An heir and a spare.” Hashirama murmurs in agreement. 

“It won’t be anytime soon at least…this would be the worst time to cast you aside, with your uncle marrying Hondōma’s daughter the clan is more divided than ever.” Touka continues seriously, “If he has a son that division will only deepen.”

”I know.” Hashirama grumbles, rolling her eyes. She hates politics. “What does it matter ? Not like I can do anything about it anyways…”

Touka is quiet for a moment, and then her calloused fingers grip Hashirama’s in her own. “Sorry, I was just thinking aloud…I do that when I’m nervous.”

Hashirama looks down at their clasped hands curiously, feeling warm but a little confused. “You’re a lot more touchy feely now that you know I’m a girl…”

Touka clears her throat, pulling her hand away with a scoff. Hashirama moves quickly to grab it with a dismayed sound, and is surprised when Touka lets her. “Boys always make a big deal about hugging and holding hands, calling it childish or girly…I figured you were the same until now.”

”Do you…like me better now?” Hashirama asks, grabbing Touka’s hand harder. 

”It’s not that I like you better now…” Touka finally says, once they’ve calmed down. “Rather that I feel like I know you better. But…I saw you differently when I thought you were a boy. It’ll take me some time to get used to it.”

”Am I really that different now?” Hashirama says, a bit of hurt threading her voice. “I haven’t changed.”

Touka turns on her side, facing her directly. Hashirama ignores her for a moment, staring pointedly up at the ceiling until she huffs and turns her chin forcibly towards her. 

”Hmm…no, you’re exactly the same.” Touka says with a sharp smirk, “That ridiculous look on your face tells me you’re just as stupid as before, that’s for certain.”

A snort breaks out of Hashirama’s chest without her permission, but she quickly corrals it and sets her face into an expression of deep depression, her lip wobbling and nose sniffling. “You’re so mean to me, Touka-nee!”

”Don’t pretend to cry after laughing, idiot.”

Touka’s deadpan delivery forces Hashirama to break, and she rolls to her side as the laughter overcomes her. A moment later Touka joins her, both of them laughing for a long time, far longer than the joke really deserved, until both of them have stitches in their side. Through it all, Hashirama doesn’t let go of her hand.

“…do you think, if I really was a boy, that we’d still be friends?” Hashirama whispers, when they finally calm down

”I know we would.” Touka says definitively. “You’re nothing if not stubborn.”

”That’s true.” Hashirama snickers, gripping her hand tighter. “You’re never escaping me now, Touka-nee!”

“Why would I want to?” She sniffs haughtily, “I’m not going anywhere; after all, don’t think I’ve forgotten you promised to teach me the Way of Roots taijutsu style.”

“Eh? Did I?” Hashirama says innocently, pretending to be confused.

Touka pushes at her shoulder with a faux angry glare, before breaking into a smile. “I’ll teach you Rapid Fist, and you’ll teach me the Way of Roots. An equal trade.”

Hashirama laughs, “You have a deal!”