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Chapter One

White camellias-

only the sound of their falling.

moonlit night.

-Ranko

Springtime settled over in the land of fire much faster than Tobirama had anticipated. The last time he had thought to consider his surroundings, sheets of snow blanketed the fields and illness plagued his troops. Too many deaths later, here he was, in a stiff, previously unworn kimono observing as his oldest and solely remaining brother, Hashirama, exchanged sake with the Uzumaki woman, Mito. Had he not known any better, Tobirama would have guessed that two were as smitten and as happy as could be; from the outside, he tried to envision a couple that had fallen in love slowly, naturally, like hydrangeas come to bloom in mid-may, and decided to marry- to bind themselves to one another- out of the sheer desire to be tethered so strongly to the Earth, if only for one reason; for one person. Tobirama had long ago learned of the inadvertent burden the gods bequeathed to him when they blessed him with such unyielding shrewdness. He was far too versed in the scheme of life and all that it entailed to be so naïve. This was but one of a thousand marriages arranged in the name of coalition. Tobirama only hoped that it would be as advantageous as anticipated.

Wine colored eyes swept over the scene of the evidently happy pair. Hashirama wore the same humble smile that adorned his inviting face any minute of his life, hardly a surprise there. If the man could smile in the face of impending death, surely he could handle a marriage. Still, it was mildly surprising to see the typically composed Mito returning his brother's grin, even if only in some small, clandestine way meant only for Hashirama to witness. Tobirama emitted a soft breath of humor. Some small part of him only wished the woman, who had only ever heard of the great Senju Hashirama until a several weeks earlier, could understand just how lucky she was to have been matched with such a man. And not in the regard of social status, no; Hashirama, as reluctant as Tobirama was to admit it, was about as wonderful as they came: handsome, intelligent, kind to a fault, and lax despite his un-official standing as the most powerful and consequently most threatening shinobi in the existing great nations. But, more importantly, Hashirama quite possibly felt the happiest when he was making others happy. This was one of the largest distinguishing features between Tobirama and is oldest brother, and in that, Tobirama hoped Mito felt an iota of the appreciation that she should.

Despite the arranged manner of it all, Tobirama could not help noting a foreign glint in his brother's eye- he chuckled- something so akin to genuine happiness.

The festivities of life had never appealed to Tobirama. This, not so surprisingly, was still the case at his brother's wedding. People chitchatted and tossed back bottomless drinks and smiled thoughtlessly about Kami-knew-what. Yes- it was a happy occasion. But few were the jovial instances in a warring period. While others spoke of being content in the moment, Tobirama allowed his mind to meander into the safety of the future, or more importantly, the lack thereof. Understandably, it was difficult for others to see things as he saw them. The world, ironically enough, worked better this way.

"Look at the happy couple!" they said.

Next week we prepare for reconnaissance in Rain, he thought.

"The heavens have blessed them!" they said.

The forces on the northern front are in need of new shoes, he thought.

"May they have many children!" they said.

Forty children were made orphans last week, he thought.

Life was a living, breathing body of vicissitudes, and no one understood that better than the men that braved its waters.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder with a familiar squeeze. Tobirama peered to his left, hardly turning a cheek; he had felt Hashirama approach long before the man ever touched his shoulder. Sanguine eyes examined the groom before turning forward once more. Hashirama took a seat beside him.

"I do hope you're not getting lost in thought at my wedding, little brother," Hashirama spoke with affectionate humor in his voice, like sunset coaxing the moon back into the sky as it took its rest.

Tobirama winced slightly at the unintended- or completely intended- condescension. "Weddings are not cause to hinder the workings of the mind," the younger man responded in his quintessential detached baritone.

"I suppose you're right," Hashirama nodded, "however, I can't help the feeling that you're so, so wrong." Hashirama spared his brother a knowing glance, to which Tobirama merely shook his head and waited for the man to proceed, which he did. "You see- weddings are cause enough for a number of things- a transition in life, a joining of two lives, two families, two cultures." He clapped a hand down on Tobirama's shoulder, "But more importantly- it's an opportunity to get some hard liquor in you before you die of a stroke at sixteen. Now drink." The groom set a full saucer of sake on the table and looked to his brother, mischief glowing in his honey brown eyes.

Tobirama raised a brow at the offer. In his sixteen years of life, alcohol had never been something he cared much for. While some clans coped with war by way of the bottle, the Senju were a dignified group of organization, and such strict organization left no room for carousing. Like his father before him, Tobirama was not an indulgent man.

"Just a sip," Hashirama coaxed, "and I may let you off the hook early."

That, however, was a promising proposal.

Picking up the saucer patiently, Tobirama tipped its contents down his gullet all at once and set the container down with a thunk. He gave his brother a measured look.

"Happy?" the silver haired man said, earning a fast smile from Hashirama.

"Ecstatic, actually," the groom replied. Dark brown eyes gazed around the room, not necessarily observing, but looking.

"I'd say about every major clan in the village is here. And most of Mito's family, of course."

Tobirama nodded in affirmation, his eyes linger to a very specific section of the festivities, one made up of Uchiha emblems and raven hair. "Yes, it appears so."

Hashirama sighed with certain disappointment in his face, "Does your prejudice pervade even my wedding, Brother?"

Tobirama found it difficult to affirm his brother's accusation through the sudden thickness in his chest. Truly, it was a bit frustrating that with just one look Hashirama could see straight into his thoughts somehow. It was a blatant lie to say that Tobirama never entertained the idea of a perfectly placid coexistence with the Uchiha. However, it was not a lie to say that he believed such a thing to be perfectly feasible anywhere in the near future. When it came down to it, he was a Senju, born and bred. He could not so simply live to fight his enemy one day and turn to shake his hand the next.

"I suppose you'll have to excuse me if I'm a little overly vigilant toward the people that have sworn genocide over our clan for generations," Tobirama spoke with heat in his voice, a wry humor tagging itself to his words.

He felt a certain disappointment erode his brother's calm, characteristically happy features. From the outside, it was increasingly intriguing to consider the two were brothers. Everything about the older brother exuded warmth; the deep, earth brown tones of his hair, the summer stain of his tanned skin, and the wholeness of his dark, trusting gaze. Everything about the younger brother was quite the opposite; frosty white hair, like ice, pale skin, and shallow, apathetic, crimson pools where his eyes- the windows to his soul- should be.

The contrasts only became more apparent as one came to know each brother.

Sometimes appearances truly do speak certain truths.

"Brother," Hashirama began, "how many times do I have to tell you you're too young to have such old prejudices?"

"You don't have to tell me at all- ."

"Don't I?" Hashirama defended, the tone of the understanding father they never had manifesting in his voice. "I promise you that it is only once you forget your resentment that they will do the same." Dark brown eyes stared into vermillion with a deep-seated sincerity. There it was again- the impossible idealism of his brother's that had him second-guessing everything he'd ever been taught in his life, keeping him up at night like no annoying lark outside his window ever could.

Sighing that inimitable sigh of his, Tobirama turned his gaze to his brother, "Don't you have a wife to be entertaining?"

The groom gave a hearty laugh. "Actually, Mito is quite good at playing diplomat most of the time, so I think she'll be alright." Hashirama stared after the woman, who seemed quite occupied playing peek-a-boo with one of the Senju children. His wide smile humbled, "But then again, maybe I will keep her company."

Hashirama stood from the table, and Tobirama followed suit.

With a crooked brow, Hashirama looked over his brother as he stood. "Okay, either you're going to talk to one of the pretty girls that have been eyeing you this evening," the dark haired man guessed, "or you're leaving."

"I've said my proper hellos," Tobirama affirmed with a passive face, "and now I have work to do."

As if he had expected that much, Hashirama nodded, "I suppose you've done your time." The dark man turned on his heel and made to rejoin his guests.

Tobirama resisted a roll of his eyes and stared after the man as he began his walk away.

"Hashi."

Glancing over his shoulder, the older Senju smiled and turned toward his younger brother.

Having a lapse in his usual frigidness, Tobirama stepped forward and wrapped his brother in a firm embrace. Because that's what you do on your brother's wedding day. "Best wishes, Brother," he said in a warm tone that Hashirama hadn't heard in years.

Just as soon as it had happened, Tobirama released and turned down the path leading out of the festivities. Hashirama stared after his brother with silent contentedness until his silver hair was but a blur in the distance of the forest.

Tobirama ambled down the pathway in the forest that led back to the village. Paper lanterns danced from tree to tree, happy souls of a celebrating forest, lighting the whole way back to the village. A calm rolled over his body like an old friend come for tea as he simply allowed himself the leisurely stroll. Feeling the wind at his back, Tobirama sewed a string of water through his fingers, thoughtlessly molding the chakra. He repeated the second nature mantras that had ingrained themselves into his mind long ago, when he had first begun his water nature training with his mother. Long, almost lost memories of her movements floated through the back of his mind. Soft, smooth, wading, she had said. An extension of self. Still, he could see himself, tall enough to walk but hardly old enough to understand the purpose of her lessons. He could see her soft hair, streams of moonlit silver, swaying in the winter winds, and the way she would entwine the streams of her water with his own. He could still feel the absolute awe swelling in his chest as he watched her dance with the jutsus, feet gracefully gliding over the water as she produced luscious waves that waded all down the river. More than anything, he remembers the pride in her eyes as she watched him produce his very first whirlpool, though he very nearly sucked himself under and into its current.

So swiftly she had pulled him from his own doing, and held him, a soft smile set in place-

It was only through the monotony of his reminiscence that Tobirama felt the second presence.

He stopped dead in his tracks there at the edge of the forest; the string of water he sewed between his fingers fell limp into the earth, along with every thought of his past life. He turned his cheek to the hidden companion. "I know you're there."

Silence.

Furrowing his brow, he turned toward the possible opponent. "Fine," he spoke, "have it your way." Pulling a river of water into his grasp, Tobirama prepared to send it in after his foe, before-

"I wasn't hiding!"

A girl?

Tobirama retracted his stream. A firm frown set in place over his features, and he searched through the shadows of the branches before coming to settle on her figure.

"Come down," he said, allowing the water to dissipate.

Expectedly, she did not comply, instead choosing to shield herself behind the safety of the tree trunk. Half her features remained apparent to him, washed in the ghostly white light of midnight moon.

"Hmph," he sounded, nearly amused.

The dark blue hues of her formal attire revealed a number of things to him. One, that she was an Uchiha, and two, that she had also been in attendance of his brother's wedding. The decidedly stark contrast between her snowy skin and dark hued hair also served as an indicator, though something about her lacked the severe blackness of most Uchiha. The silence with which she had managed to move through the trees, presumably masking her chakra, told him that she was a kunoichi; albeit, young, not much older than eight years old.

Tobirama narrowed his eyes, "I suppose I don't have to tell you how suspicious it looks for an Uchiha, even as young as yourself, to travel the same path as a Senju for such a long way, and so covertly." He cocked a slim, silver brow.

Her gaze was reluctant to meet his own, even as significant distance remained between them. She regarded him with a mix of the anticipated gaze with which one might meet a possible threat, a long known foe, and a distinctly curious eye that a child might just as easily place on a potential friend. It was just like a child, he decided, to hope for friends wherever they went; so blissfully oblivious to the blatant discoloration of life.

Opening her mouth to speak, she reserved herself, tucking further behind the tree; a striking look in her eye stirred Tobirama in ways completely unfamiliar to him.

Like a sixth sense, Tobirama found himself most distracted by the life coursing through her body. Throughout his lifetime of battling the raven-haired clan, he had come to acquaint himself with a chakra flow that was unique in its ferocity, its hostility, and its passion. This child, this particular flow of chakra, was no less passionate in its force, though there was a definite clemency in its flow, a tenderness- a warmth that absolutely confounded every perception he had of true warmth. Mentally shaking the thought from his head, Tobirama cast a last glance up toward the woman before turning his back.

"You'll do well to make yourself known in situations like this one," he said, "untrustworthy characters travel in the shadows. Don't be mistaken."

He almost stalled as her heard her voice, soft against his senses; like evening wind.

"Hai, Tobirama-san."

Even as she watched him walk away, Haruka was not certain why she chose to make herself known just as she reached the edge of the forest. Upon seeing Tobirama of the Senju clan leaving the wedding just as she did, she made a conscious decision to travel apart from him if only to avoid the awkwardness of traveling with a stranger as well as evading the infamous, unwelcoming aura of the Senju. Proficiently enough for an eight-year-old, it seemed, she had hidden herself, kept quiet even under the impossible pressure. Occasionally, she would even stop to watch him slowly disappear into the forest ahead of her, only to regain proximity to him.

Before that day, she had never seem the famed shinobi, nor his wood-manipulating brother- and my, had he been a fascinating thing to watch. Everything about the cold boy was careful, calculating, and vigilant. Exiting the forest, she had felt the intense curiosity rearing its dangerous head, and she screamed inside to see his reaction to the sudden company; to experience his coarseness firsthand. Or maybe, just maybe, she had always- since the moment she laid eyes on him and his icy blue aura- simply wished to feel those cold, calculating eyes on her.

Watching him walk further into the Senju settlement, Haruka felt more certain with every passing moment that it was the latter.

A Note for my Lovely Readers

Hi! Welcome to my first installment of DTW.

This is a story I've been waiting and waiting to write. Tobirama, I feel, is such an overlooked character and I always found myself wondering what exactly his whole story was. The entire foundation period of Konoha is something that thoroughly intrigues me, and what better a way to delve into that than to write about it?

Really, it's a mix of difficulty and freedom to know so little about this period of the Naruto universe. Difficult, in that I try to stay as close to being canon as possible, and nice in that I have so much ambiguity to work with in terms of creating my own storyline.

The first few chapters will skip around in the years leading up to the actual first real meeting between Tobirama and Haruka, so bear with me. We have quite a bit of establishing to do- but I promise it'll all be more than worth it.

Thank you so much for tuning in.

Reviews are welcome. (Time to build a readership, I guess!)

-Vanessa