When he woke up, he already knew something was wrong.

He shouldn't be waking up to anything at all, should he? The fight with Madara had ended as expected. With that scoundrel's death, the Fourth Shinobi World War could finally come to a close. The Uchiha had finally seen the error of his ways; and for a moment, he saw a glimpse of the kind-hearted man he supposedly once was. He hadn't known Madara on the same level as Hashirama did, not that he had ever wanted to. The unadulterated sorrow he saw in his brother's eyes when the Uchiha said his last words…the image still burned in his mind. In a way, it angered him. How could his foolish Anija possibly forgive that monster for everything he had done up to that point? It was senseless. He simply could not comprehend it. Then again, he never truly understood what went through his elder brother's mind half the time. What did Hashirama see that he himself could not?

Something's missing here; something important. He just didn't know what as of yet.

"Oi, Tobirama! Wake up!"

His eyes snapped open at the voice. He knew that voice. It had been silent for ages. He still remembered the day when Hashirama told him of their little brother's death. Hovering over his face, nose to nose with him, was Itama Senju. His dead baby brother.

"Yay! You're awake!" Itama cheered. "Kaa-chan asked me to wake you up. Usually it's Anija who sleeps all day, not you."

Mother. That was another word that had left a bitter taste on his tongue. He remembered her fate as well: dying to protect Kawarama in vain. Why was this phantom haunting him now of all times when he finally had the chance to rest in peace after the whole fiasco with the Fourth Shinobi War? He glared at the boy, earning a few giggles in return.

"Don't blame me when Kaa-chan comes in and scolds you for not getting up when you're told, Tobirama~!" sang Itama as he almost skipped out of the room.

He sighed. Itama was always too cheerful, even more so than Hashirama. He grunted as he stretched out his stiff limbs. They felt…smaller than normal. He took a quick look at his hand, eyes widening in response. They were tiny compared to the size they were supposed to be. They looked frail too, like he hadn't had any training whatsoever. That couldn't be right. He shot up in his bed, finally taking in his surroundings.

Everything was exactly how he remembered it: the floorboards, the gentle breeze through the open windows, the rustling of tree leaves, the smell of food wafting through the room, the sound of pattering feet. If this was a nightmare, he desperately hoped he would wake up soon. He should not be in his old bedroom with his once dead siblings living again and him inhabiting the body of his seven-year-old self.

Something was still missing. Out of place. Foreign. The feeling kept nagging at him in the back of his mind as he stood up and straightened himself out. He still couldn't determine exactly what was wrong. He already knew this entire situation was beyond imagination. By all means, he and Itama should be dead. This entire building should've been turned into scrap material after the clan wars. He sighed again, deciding to explore a bit more. If the hypothesis that was currently forming in his mind was true, he'd have a boatload of issues to deal with in the future…if he had one.

He entered the common room, finding all his siblings chatting around the table as they ate their breakfast, even Hashirama with his stupid bowl-cut hairstyle. Butsuma was as stern-looking as ever and Nami was serving out rice to their plates. She smiled warmly at him, her delicate features shining as brightly as the morning sunlight that peeked through the windows. He frowned, the feeling of a mother's love teasing his every nerve. He couldn't get attached. He couldn't go through that stage of grief all over again.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," she greeted him. "Finally decided to join the rest of us?"

He gave her a curt nod, slowly making his way to sit next to Hashirama. It seemed his hypothesis was correct so far. Somehow, instead of dying, he found himself in the past. As to how or why, he had little information to go off of. On one hand, he still had his knowledge of future events that were to come and could possibly prevent them from happening. On the other hand…did he have the right to change those events? Time was not something that could easily be messed with. He was one man. How could he possibly make a difference? He was not Hashirama nor was he Naruto. He did not have the same charisma that drew everyone towards him nor did he have the same strength of heart to trust those who were considered enemies. He frowned to himself. Of all the strange things to have happened, he certainly did not expect this when he had played his part to end the Fourth Shinobi War.

"Whatcha thinking so hard about, nee-chan?"

That one sentence snapped him out of his reverie.

"What?" he blurted out, feeling a bit put off by how unnaturally high his voice was. He never sounded like that when he was young.

"You have that look on your face again, Tobi," Kawarama explained bluntly. "Where you furrow your eyebrows and your frown gets ten times deeper than normal? That look."

"No…I meant after that…"

"Nee-chan, are you awake yet or not?"

Oh kami. No. Kawarama said it again. With a shaking hand, he gripped his hair. It was long. Unnaturally long. He eventually placed his hands down, hoping to feel something familiar. There was nothing. Nothing.

"Imouto, is something the matter?" Hashirama asked, sounding a bit worried. "You look paler than normal."

Yes, something was wrong! Something was terribly wrong! Not only was he not supposed to be here, but he wasn't supposed to be a GIRL! What kind of sick joke was this!? Was he not a faithful shinobi? Was he not a good Hokage? What did he do to deserve such an awful punishment?

"Alright, enough fooling around," Butsuma announced, all the children straightening themselves at their father's voice. "If you've finished eating, you have no excuse to be late to your daily training."

"But Chichiue—"

"I don't want to hear any excuses, Hashirama!"

Tobirama scowled. Butsuma was as relentless as he remembered. He made a move to get up, but a hand forced him back into his seat. He whipped his head around, preparing to snap at whoever stopped him. He found himself at a loss for words when he saw that it was his mother who had stopped him. She gave him an apologetic smile.

"Tobi-chan," she said soothingly. "I know you've always wanted to train like your brothers, but you need to remember your place."

Tobirama couldn't believe his ears. "My place!?"

"Listen to your mother, Tobirama," Butsuma said, his tone softening a miniscule amount. "A woman's true place is in the home. You will stay here with Nami. I will not have my only daughter taken away by those damned Uchiha."

"I am not a woman!" Tobirama retorted. "And I refuse to sit around and do nothing."

"Tobirama!" was the stern warning that indicated the discussion was over.

Tobirama reluctantly backed down. He glared at his rice bowl, snatching his chopsticks and stuffing rice into his mouth. Apparently, child instincts overran the logical processing of his adult mind. He didn't care what his family thought. He was a shinobi. Nothing would change that, especially not his switched gender. He was not a woman and he certainly wasn't going to act like one, even if his physical body said otherwise. He knew of the torturous traditions that females had to follow. Only the strongest were allowed to become kunoichi and the rest were used as baby makers. If they couldn't do either, they'd be slaughtered like livestock and their entire existence wiped clean from the earth to prevent clan secrets from being taken by enemy clans. He mentally shuddered at the thought that he might be used for "increasing the population" of the Senju Clan. There was no choice. He HAD to become a…kunoichi if he wanted to stay alive, not just from his enemies but from the clan elders as well.

He didn't need Butsuma. He already knew everything his father had taught him from his first life. All he needed to worry about now was training his body and expanding his chakra reserves. His knowledge, experience, and invented jutsu would provide him the edge he needed over others. If he had this second chance at life, he had to make the most of it despite his abhorrence to his new feminine position.

He was here for a reason and he knew what that reason was. There was only one key objective he had in mind: kill Madara Uchiha. That Uchiha was responsible for the majority of Konoha's problems. If he could kill Madara, the Fourth Shinobi World War would never come to pass. Hashirama wouldn't die before the First Shinobi War. That other Uchiha—Obito, was it?—would never have lost himself to the evil in his heart. So many other things could be prevented with that man's death. Tobirama's hands clenched into fists, a fierce resolve burning in his crimson eyes. He knew what he needed to do now. Hashirama may never forgive him, but it was for the greater good; for every single life Madara had destroyed or twisted beyond recognition. He swore that the Uchiha would perish by his hands. He would finish off Izuna afterwards. After all, he definitely didn't need Izuna to become the new Madara.

"I know you're frustrated," Nami said, interpreting her daughter's expression as something different. "But your father is just trying to protect you."

"He can't protect me forever," Tobirama retorted, standing up after finishing his rice. "And he knows that."

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I don't care what Chichiue says. I'm not going to stand by and be told what I can and can't do. I will be a shinobi and neither he nor you will tell me otherwise."

"Who said I would stop you?"

Tobirama stared at his mother. "Kaa-chan?"

Nami winked, placing a finger in front of her lips. "I won't tell your father, but you have to promise me that you'll train in secret."

He allowed a smile to grace his features. Nami was once an exceptional kunoichi before she became Butsuma's wife. She gave up that life to take on the duties that came with her new designation. She had despised the clan traditions as well. It seemed she didn't want her "daughter" to go through that torture either.

"You're treading into dangerous waters, Tobirama. The life of a kunoichi isn't an easy one, especially when you're challenging the customs of your clan. Do you think you can handle that burden?"

"Definitely," Tobirama answered without hesitation.

"That's my girl," Nami said, a fire sparking in her crimson eyes. "You don't mind letting your mother in on the fun too, do you?"

He blinked. That was one thing he wasn't expecting. Butsuma had taught him everything he knew, but never once did he ask his mother if she could teach him what she knew. He was a child then, too caught up in the haze of war to bother. When he realized exactly how much she meant to him, it was too late. But now, he had that chance to learn from her.

"Not at all."

At first he thought the transition from male to female wasn't so bad. He was dead wrong. He despised this new form and how feeble it was. The physical strength difference between the sexes was always obvious, but Tobirama never understood exactly how different they truly were until now. As a boy at this age, he was able to combat adults twice his size and still come out alive. As a girl…regrettably, he couldn't go even an hour without tiring. He was painfully aware of much Butsuma had refused to allow his "daughter" to train before his mind had reawakened at this strange place in time. It felt like this body hadn't partaken in any sort of strenuous physical activity. Perhaps it hadn't been out to train once in its entire life.

Thankfully, Nami was a far less strict teacher than his father. Even if his body refused to go on, Butsuma would still force him to continue training. Nami, however, would allow him to rest. Apparently she understood how the body worked better than Butsuma did. Spurts of exercise with periods of relaxation proved more effective in the long run than constant training without any breaks.

He stretched out his arms, wincing at the soreness he now felt. It would definitely take a lot of time to get his now weaker body up to snuff; several months, at the very least. He scowled to himself. He didn't exactly have that much time. The Uchiha were merciless during the clan wars and these battles would continue until his elder brother finally made those fools see the light. If he didn't start seeing progress soon…Kawarama and Nami would meet their end. He knew he shouldn't mess with the timeline, but he couldn't let fate take the same course as before. They were family. He may not have shown weakness while in front of Butsuma the day the two were buried, but inside he grieved over the loss. Death should not be understood so easily at such a young age, but it was all they had known growing up. He did not want to watch them die again, not when he could've done something about it this time.

That brought up an even bigger question; one he was still mulling over and probably would be for some time. Why was he here? He clearly remembered being whisked away to the Pure Land by the Rikudo Sennin, but there was nothing after that. Just a massive blank. That led him to believe that the conniving old man might've had something to do with his current predicament. But still, why him of all people? If anyone deserved a second chance to do things over and prevent the atrocities to come, it would've been his brother. His brother—bumbling, stupid, yet ever gentle Hashirama—would've been more suited for this position. Who better to lead the shinobi nations to peace than the one who brought them to life in the first place? Hashirama's accomplishments as Hokage far outshined his own.

After all, he was partly to blame for what happened to Naruto's generation. He killed Izuna, prompting Madara to take a darker path. He intended the Uchiha Police Force to be a means of discouraging Madara's will from reappearing, but it instead sparked a new flame of hatred. The Uchiha coup was born from that hatred and a necessary punishment was in order for the conspirators, but total annihilation of the clan was not justified. Innocent blood shouldn't have been spilled for the foolish actions of the few.

All of that and more happened because of actions he took. He was beginning to understand why it was him and not Hashirama. Perhaps this was his punishment and the sudden gender switch was just another kick in the pants, meant to throw him down and daunt him.

A smack on his wrist. "Tobirama! Pay attention!"

Kami, help him now and release him from the torment of having to obey his "etiquette teacher". It took all of his willpower not to storm out of the room. It was either face this fool or deal with Butsuma's wrath. As much as he detested this treatment, he still had to play the part as the weak and fragile daughter for now to deter any suspicion about his secret training. But acting like a little girl…it sickened him to the point where he physically felt ill from it. He wanted to be who he truly was, but a seven-year-old girl acting like a grown man would be looked down upon and it would definitely seem suspicious to those who were too observant for their own good. Not to mention that being seen as unsure about your own gender would cause even more of an uproar than just challenging family customs.

At least these slaps were nothing compared to what Butsuma could dish out when enraged. He winced as he tried to readjust himself on the cushion. He had lost feeling in his toes a long time ago, not being used to sitting in a "ladylike" position. As a guy, you could spread your legs anywhere and no one would complain. But no, not as a lady. You had to sit exactly like this or that so you didn't dishonor yourself or your clan.

He glared at her. "Explain to me why I have to learn this nonsense?"

"Do not take that tone of voice with me. You may be the princess of the Senju Clan, but being surrounded by such unruly males has hampered your manners. You could learn a thing or two from your mother."

"I am not forcing myself to be something I'm not."

"You will understand in time, my child. You're still young, so the severity of your actions will be overlooked. When the time comes for you to take a husband, you will have to follow etiquette. He will not tolerate disrespect or rudeness from you."

Princess of the Senju Clan? If they thought they could stick him in a kimono, mess with his hair, place makeup on him—the filthy gunk—and make him train to become the perfect wife, they were sorely mistaken. He was anything but a princess and he would not stand for this treatment! Taking a husband? Hell would freeze over first before he would marry another man. And what kind of nonsense was she trying to drill into him? Not all men treated their wives like that; Hashirama and Mito were a perfect example. If this is what all women heard this early on, no wonder they followed their husbands' every request like slaves. They were conditioned their entire lives to believe it.

"I see that you're going to be another Nami Senju for me," she sighed. "I know it's tedious, but this is how things are supposed to be. You'll have to learn that sooner or later."

"I'll never learn it."

"We'll see about that little challenge. You're done for today. I will see you again tomorrow."

Like hell she would. He'd have to come up with escape plans starting tonight. He painfully stood up, the pins and needles feeling assaulting his feet. He loathed sitting like that. How could women sit for hours on end like that and seem totally fine? He was struggling just to stagger to the door, for kami's sake! And this was just the beginning. He couldn't imagine what other unbearable torture he had to face in the future.

He stood outside, letting the night air cool him down. Being in a kimono this thick made him uncomfortably hot, causing a bit of sweat to bead down his face. That mixed with the makeup, making his face feel slimy. It was disgusting. He couldn't wait to remove everything and take a long, hot bath. The stress was slowly getting to him and he needed some more time to deal with all these massive changes.

No. No amount of time would suffice. He would never be the same. He thought he was one thing, but in reality he was another and everyone made sure to rub that in his face. The realization would hit him full force as soon as he saw his bare female body the first time.

It was official. Being a girl sucked.

Plot-bunnies...WHY!? I have way too much stuff to work on! DX

I've been in a huge IzuTobi mood and this little idea was sitting idly on my computer since April. My muse decided to breathe fresh life into it and this is the finished product. I haven't seen someone do something like this with our favorite fluffy and ever grumpy Senju, so this should be interesting.