Summary: Although he knows the trap that lies in nostalgia, Tobirama allows himself this one weakness. What else the passing of time is good for, if not for taking away the edge of memories? A sequel to The Second.
Notes: I've been asked for a sequel to The Second a couple of times and I had the urge to end this story at a less devastating point myself, so I gave it a try. I can't claim I succeeded much, but maybe a little bit?
Tobirama centric, contains HashiTobi, mentions of HashiMada and HiruDanzo.
Warnings: for incest and canon character death
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Shadow of Flame
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One of the earliest memories he can recall is being very ill around the age of five. He remembers how he was shaking with fever and thinking he was going to die. Because young as he was, he already knew all about death, saw people passing away around him all the time.
He remembers clearly those seemingly endless days he spent alone, having nothing better to do than to stare at the ceiling of the dim room. Probably it was days. It certainly felt like an eternity. They didn't let his mother take care of him - she was pregnant, and there was baby Kawarama too, she couldn't afford to catch the sickness.
Long decades later, Tobirama still remembers the loneliness he felt. How father told him to bear the pain like a man, that his son shouldn't cry.
So he only shed his tears when he couldn't see it, wishing for his mother's love and tenderness instead of his cold worlds.
Then, when he felt he couldn't stand it any longer, that he would wail loudly, even if dad would punish him for it, as punishment was still better than being alone in that miserable room, the slide door was pushed open and Hashirama slipped in.
"Pst, it's me. Keep it down, they shouldn't know I'm here."
"Brother," he whispered and tried to keep his now relieved sobs back as he was told. "Father said you can't come here."
"You know how he is, all don't do this and that's. He doesn't need to know."
"But… you can get the illness too."
"Nah, I'm never ill! Here, drink some water."
He helped him to sit up and held the cup against his lip. Just because he was there, Tobirama already started to feel better. It wasn't so cold any more - with his tanned skin and caring smile, a piece of spring appeared in the room with his brother.
He told all about what he was missing - his trainings, the everyday happenings of the clan, how their mother and little brother were doing. He also pushed his hair out from his forehead, wetting a piece of cloth to wipe the sweat of fever away and caressed his brow. Soon enough Tobirama was yawning, though denying he was sleepy. He didn't want Hashirama to leave.
"I'll stay even if you sleep," his brother reassured him. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."
He wishes he'd also remember what happened afterwards. Was Hashirama discovered and punished? Was he able to visit him regularly, until Tobirama got better?
But that memory ends there, with him slipping into dream, and his brother staying vigil next to his tatami.
He wonders if Hashirama remembered that too. Maybe it was important enough only for Tobirama to recall. It's too late to ask him now.
He's not sure why that memory is so precious. It happened more than half a century ago. Maybe in his old age he's simply becoming sentimental. Wouldn't people be shocked to learn that about him?
He has a reputation of being level headed to the point of emotionless after all - and honestly, that's with a reason. With Hashirama gone, there's nothing to distract him from his duties. He rules over his brother's village with a cold heart and a firm mind. He has always been good in creating the rules and seeing the most effective way to solve any issue. Working for the greater good, without letting his personal feelings deterring him.
There's only one matter where he doesn't manage to be so disciplined.
Because although he can put reasons behind how he deals with the Uchiha clan, at least for himself he can admit it is retribution. Petty revenge on a man long dead. He punishes the whole clan for the past existence of Uchiha Madara.
What would he say if he saw his kin now? All humble, bowing their head. A few whispers angrily and cast him murderous glances behind his back, but they don't protest, they don't stand up against him. He feels guilty sometimes, with how satisfied moving them to the outskirts of the village, for seeing them not having much interaction with the rest of the population makes him feel. He can claim that it's for the benefit of all, that he gives noble tasks for the Uchiha, deals fairly with those, like Kagami, who are working for the village. If the rest can't settle in, it's hardly his fault, isn't it?
Nobody knows his real intention after all. At worst they think he's afraid of the Uchiha, which he is not. If it would come to that, with Madara dead, they wouldn't stand a chance against the joined forces of the allied clans that is Konoha. Talented from birth as they are all labelled, they are weak compared to their past glory. If anyone knows that, it's Tobirama. Long decades passed, but he still remembers with clarity all those battles he fought against them with his brother on his side.
If he wants to deceive himself, he can even pretend they were good times. He knows the trap that lies in nostalgia - knows how time takes away the painful edge of memories, how it can turn events sweeter than they were - but he allows himself to indulge. That is his only softness, and careful as he is to keep it in secret, it won't become his weakness.
He doesn't have any other vulnerable spot. He has no close family, a wife or children. His closest connection - ironically enough - is his sister-in-law.
Since Hashirama died, Tobirama has considered it his duty to ensure Mito has all comfort she needs in her life, he spends time with her, so she has company. As the only Uzumaki in the village and a Jinchuuriki, he knows her to be alone. They exchange obligatory, empty words about Hashirama - the wife who never knew much about the husband and the brother who knew too much about him - and more honest and enthusiastic ones about the grandchildren. They are growing up into fine shinobi and they both carry a piece of Hashirama with them. Nawaki with his open cheerfulness and optimism of a young boy who thinks the world is his, Tsunade with her belief in people, with her dedication to help them remind Tobirama often about their grandfather.
Some days he wonders if Mito has a lover now that Hashirama is gone. Uzumaki generally live a long life, and it seems to be holding true for her as well - age hardly started to leave her marks on her yet.
He doesn't know either whether she had anyone when she was younger, if she ever knew that her husband wouldn't have minded it.
He's pretty sure that she is just as relieved as Tobirama is that they are both over the age where they'd still be expected to marry each other.
The elders of the clan have given up years ago to persuade him to find a wife. This is the only area of his life where he neglected his duty, but he just couldn't make himself to bond with anyone… not when Hashirama was alive and even less so now, that he's dead.
He hasn't even picked any other lover. He's hardly ever overcome with lust nowadays, and those occasions he is, he usually just waits for the urge to pass. What else would he do? Masturbating while thinking about his dead brother would be a morbid thing.
"You should take these kind of things lighter, brother," Hashirama told him once. "There are certain things in life that you should rather feel than think about."
It was so long ago, but he remembers it clearly, can almost hear him teasing him softly, if he closes his eyes, he can still see him smiling. They were already past the point of no return, crossing that line that brothers were not supposed to cross. He was also past his own, self-set boundary, and not even feeling guilt over it.
"I'll let you do that," Tobirama grumbled. They were lying side by side, facing each other. It was early morning - was it summer, or just warm spring, he's no longer sure. The weather was nice enough to allow them to lay naked, with nothing but a thin sheet covering them from the waist down. Outside the sun just started to rise, illuminating Hashirama's face in a flattering light. He looked younger than his age - he was thirty-two, or maybe thirty-three - and more carefree than he had any right to be. The white-haired Senju had been so happy to see him smile again with close to his old frequency. Uchiha Madara couldn't cast his shadow on them that morning.
"I'll let you do that," he repeated. "You can feel for both of us just as I will think for the both of us."
He wanted it to sound sarcastic, but it came out differently, soft and longing. Hashirama's lips curled upwards, apparently pleased with this proposed setup, so he didn't try to amend his words. His brother reached out to caress his face, the red markings under his eyes. Tobirama closed his lids. There were all kind of things he was thinking about right there and then too, rational things, like how Hashirama should go home, how he shouldn't have stayed for the night at all, that they needed to be much more careful, but he didn't say them out loud. It was too enjoyable just to feel the older man's touches… it was probably just around five or six in the morning, Hashirama wouldn't be missed from his office for a couple of more hours… as for his wife, Mito never complained why her husband was away from their home so often, sometimes for whole nights. She surely knew he had a lover, but she was, she had to be unsuspecting of that lover's identity. If that wasn't the case, their situation would become even more complex and dangerous…
"Stop it," Hashirama whispered into his ear, then gently bit his lobe.
"Stop what?" Tobirama snapped, opening his eyes to glare at him.
"Stop thinking about… whatever you're thinking about. I can't stand kissing you when you're frowning."
"You weren't actually…"
Hashirama shut him up with pressing his lips against his, tongue pushing for entry - Tobirama must had his teeth grit together, and yes, he was frowning as well, but rational thoughts about all those must do-s were quickly slipping away, giving way for pleasure his brother was evoking in his body, with his caresses and kisses on his face, neck and chest, with his playful fingers on the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, on his cock finally, when he had enough of teasing his younger brother.
Hashirama could do more than feel for both of them. He could make Tobirama stop thinking and start feeling - feeling to be alive with everything he did, with his whole being. The weight and heat of his body as he rolled on top of him, his warm, tanned skin that made such a nice contrast with his pale colours, the burning, pleasurable ache when he penetrated him. The way he moved together with him, slowly at first than with urgency towards their release.
This is such a pleasant memory. If he thinks about it, Tobirama can deceive himself that their relationship was an easy one, carefree and loving, not filled with guilt, anger and shadows of the past.
He likes to recall that warm morning, their lovemaking. He was happy and he's sure Hashirama was happy too. Yes, he was laughing, after he reached his peak and collapsed on top of Tobirama. He cuddled him close and laughed softly, with no apparent reason, like it was his habit sometimes and the younger man couldn't help but laugh along with him. He didn't even think about asking what was so funny.
They both arrived to the Hokage office late for Tobirama's taste, but with the feeling of bone-deep satisfaction and mellowness which remained with him for long hours he couldn't care about such trifle detail on that day.
He's becoming an old man. If the headache he always gets when he reads too much - a sure but ignored sign that he'd need glasses - wouldn't tell it clearly enough, becoming maudlin over memories like this makes a clear message. Even when he becomes erect recalling the most pleasant times they spent together with his brother, the urge to touch himself is easily ignorable. He just cherishes the feeling of being loved, being important and tries not to think about other times he was filled with bitterness, jealousy, frustration and hopeless longing.
Tobirama doesn't consider himself to be a good man - he has redeeming qualities, like his punctuality, his intelligence, his loyalty - but he's not good as Hashirama had been, with naive enthusiasm mixed with power great enough to change the world.
He was happy to be chosen as the Hokage - as if he wasn't the obvious choice, the only choice - but nervous as well, because of Madara. What an absurd idea it had been to have the Uchiha as their leader, but Hashirama never saw this. He was blinded by his love for that bastard, that love he always kept close, till his dying breath. That love which always remained a wall between them, that made even sweet memories have a sour aftertaste.
Hokage.
That title didn't fit Hashirama at all. He was no shadow, he was the flame, the fire itself, that led them all, that drove people to him as moths are drawn to the light. Tobirama was no exception. Maybe Madara wasn't an exception either. The Senju doesn't know and doesn't care enough about that man to state for sure; he never had any feelings towards his brother.
Fire shadow - it's obvious that Hashirama was thinking of Madara when he made up the title, it would have suited him perfectly. It also suits Tobirama very well.
In reality fire has no shadow, but Hashirama rarely stopped to think before saying out loud what was on his mind. He just felt.
"It really doesn't cast a shadow," he said when Tobirama lit a candle to show him. He sounded surprised, and the younger Senju snorted, torn between exasperation and amusement. Sometimes he seemed as if he really knew nothing.
"Where does it leave us, brother? In the end Hokage is a non-existent thing."
He was unable to read Hashirama's face as he considered this. Sometimes he did that, closing himself up, so not even Tobirama had any clue what went on his mind.
"That's as it should be," he replied at last. He touched the wall with the tips of his fingers, where the shadow of the candle - without its flame - lay flickering. "The next generations might as well remember me by this title only… simply as the first who was entrusted to watch over the village. As they years will go by, and there will be new leaders, I will become just the first in the line. I think that's for the best. I don't need to be a person, I don't need to be anyone to protect Konoha."
His tone was mild, without emotions. They were not yet lovers at the time, not even a year had passed since Madara's death, and Hashirama often entered into a strange mood. Maybe he was convincing himself that what he did, that killing the Uchiha was the right thing to do.
Tobirama just looked at him, wanting to tell him that it mattered a lot who he was, that he was sure his name would never be forgotten, that he would be remembered for his greatness forever. Wanted to embrace him and make him understand that the death of Madara was necessary and for the benefit at all. But he was also hesitant to tear open those barely closed wounds - he remembered all too well how his brother had been when he returned home from that fateful, final battle. So he just blew out the candle and didn't say anything at all.
Now, so many years later, he tells about this conversation to Hiruzen. Just the words, not the emotions behind them of course.
"First-sama was really a wise man, wasn't he?" the boy says with awe in his voice and Tobirama almost laughs out loud, because Hashirama was anything but. It's also painfully ironic how he, how everyone is calling him The First, just as he predicted. Maybe he really had his rare, insightful moments that could be called wisdom by those who don't know better.
"My brother was an exceptional man," he replies as that is unquestionably true. "In many things you remind me of him, Saru." The boy - well, he's rather a young man now, close to twenty - blushes and looks really happy with the comparison. Tobirama offers him a thin-lipped smile; after all he mostly meant it as a compliment.
"I wish I'd also have such a great brother I could always count on, as First-sama had you, Sensei," Saru sounds honest and not sycophantic, so Tobirama decides to tease him.
"What about Danzo? He's almost like a brother to you, isn't he?"
Hiruzen's face turns to an even deeper shade of red. The white haired man pretends not to notice. The Sarutobi boy doesn't need to know that he's aware how his relationship with Danzo, his childhood friend and desperate rival, changed lately. It would be very hypocritical of him to think anything bad about it, he just hopes that Saru is aware of the Shimura's darker side that he so carefully tries to hide. People who walk in the light - like Hashirama, like Hiruzen – don't always see the shadows in others.
Tobirama, who always moved on the border of darkness and light, is much better in recognizing the shades of evil in others. He saw how Madara was, and he sees how Danzo is; desperate to be recognised, craving love and honour, wanting power that seems to come so easily to some and above else, wanting these from the person they love, hate, envy the most.
Yes, some days he looks at Danzo and seems himself in him. Other days, he sees a new Madara. It will be Hiruzen's task, it will be up to him how his lover can settle in. That's how it should be. They are the new generation, maybe they have learned from the mistakes their predecessors made. Or maybe they'll just repeat them, only the future can tell. He has hopes in them, especially in Saru, with his talent, cheerfulness and determination, with his willingness to see the good in people who are full of shadows.
When it comes to it, this makes his choice relatively easy.
He knows Cloud and its master hunters – he was the target of them before, after all. The seven of them could take them, even if the odds are three against one, but they would surely have serious casualties.
When Kagami suggests a decoy, he silently agrees with him. Rather if one of them dies than three or four or even more. It's only rational, a good suggestion from a decent enough shinobi.
He doesn't look at them while they contemplate this plan. Young as they are, they have known peace, they have known war. Tobirama feels strangely calm, finding his decision is not hard to make.
Saru is the first to speak. When he smiles at Danzo, telling him not to worry as he won't die, Tobirama understands his haste. Sacrifice comes easier when you protect your loved ones.
I've made my choice. I want you to live, Hashirama told him before he passed away, and finally Tobirama understands him. In these five years he'd been Hokage, he could only think with bitterness, with pain of his brother's last deed. But now, so close to his own death, he understands him.
In the end, brother, we are alike.
It's like a heavy burden is lifted off his shoulders.
He cuts short Danzo's and Hiruzen's private little drama. They can settle it later. Saru can think about the badly masked relief followed by hurt on the Shimura's face, Danzo can think about why he's always a step behind the other boy. They don't have to hurry - it's not the time for any of them to die.
"I will be the decoy," he tells them calmly. "You're the bright young flames who must protect the village."
There's murmur, and surprisingly enough, it's Danzo who protests the most loudly.
"You and Saru were always been rivals in everything," he tells him. Rivals, friends and more. Danzo, with all his mistakes, is a smart boy. He'll understand him. "But what we need now is unity. Don't bring your personal squabbles into this. Right now you'll just bring danger to your friends. At any rate, there's no need to be hasty at your age. One day the time will come. Just stay alive until then."
He was angry at Hashirama, when he named him the next Hokage. He told him, wasting those precious few moments they were allowed to have on telling him, that's not how it should be done. He now does the same, telling Saru that he must protect those who have faith in him and who love the village. That he has to train the next generation and entrust the legacy to them. He's the most suitable, the most talented, the one he can trust to carry on Hashirama's will. He will be the Third, the shadow and the flame. Danzo will be next to him, he's sure, dragging him back to reality when he will soar too high on the wings of his dreams. Then a day will come in both their lives when they'll be ready to make the final sacrifice for the new generation.
"Yes, sir," Saru nods, sadness and determination etched on his face. The next instant Tobirama is gone.
He puts up a decent fight. He needs to win time, for the youngsters to escape, for them to bring reinforcement from Konoha. It wouldn't do any good if the attackers could escape with his corpse. If anyone, Tobirama knows that bodies of high-ranked shinobi hold too many secrets. He spares one last thought for his lab, his experiments, his great inventions. There are a few, like Edo Tensei, that he hopes will be forgotten and never used again. The ones he's not proud of.
But the rest will be a great help for generations to come. Whether they'll know them to be his creations and praise him for them, or if his name will sink into oblivion, that's a reassuring thought.
Shinobi of the Cloud are masterful, cruel warriors. He sends many of them to the other side before himself, but they don't give their skin easily. Tobirama has always been proud of his disciplined mind, and it helps him to ignore the searing pain of the blows that hit their marks, the burn of jutsus he can't dodge.
He welcomes that final blow, the cold slice of steel. Nobody should ever know, and they won't, that he could have parried it. But why would he? His job here is done. He knows he's done good and bad, and can only hope that his work for their people was worth it.
In his last act he'll be selfish. He was without Hashirama long enough.
He smiles, looking up at the darkening sky. He didn't even notice falling to the ground.
He can't move, but he doesn't really want to. The pain is all gone...
"Brother! You've come again!"
"Pst, not so loud, Tobirama."
"Father was so angry when he caught you here yesterday. I thought…" his voice falters, as he can see he was right. There's a bruise on Hashirama's cheek which is not coming from any spar. He can recognise the signs of their dad's fury even in the dimness of the room.
Hashirama acts as if he doesn't notice his starring. He grins at him, sitting down next to him and pulls him close. The younger boy still feels weak, but his fever has broken. No matter what father told him, he's sure that Hashirama's visits were what cured him.
"You won't believe what Kawarama did today. Mom was really amused, she told me I was just as silly when I was so little. She also told me you were well behaved by that age. You need to be out of this terrible room very quickly Tobirama, I need to teach you how not to behave."
He doesn't rise to the bait as he'd normally do. He just smiles, cuddling close to Hashirama, until he allows him to lay his head down in his lap. His fingers gently caress his white locks.
Tobirama basks in his strong, loving presence, only half-listening to his silly tales and stories about their little brother, about the other members of the clan.
"Brother?" he asks on the quietest voice, but Hashirama hears him and falls silent. "Will you always stay with me?"
"Of course I will," he smiles at him warmly. "Where would I go?"
FIN