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This chapter involves a lot of time skips.

What it takes to be Hokage

Chapter 10

Madara closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing.

He was too young for this.

He didn't want to do this.

Yet he'd done this a thousand times before.

Just not like this.

He'd never imagined he'd have to do this.

Izuna's slightly elevated breathing from next to him told Madara that the boy felt the same way. Yet they were both compelled to obey. They had no choice. None at all. Lest they join those kneeling in front of them.

"By Clan Law, you four have been found guilty of treason." Taijima soft, toneless voice drummed loudly into Madara's eardrums and he wished he was out on a mission, fighting Hashirama, killing an enemy . . . anything! Just so that he didn't have to be here.

Here. . .

. . . Where his face was cold, an expressionless mask that belied his true feelings and almost a mirror of his father's. His hands were calm, by his sides and completely under his control. His entire posture was relaxed, as though he'd been doing this his whole life.

He was sixteen now.

Two years since Naruto had landed in this world. Roughly a year and a half since he'd seen the blond on the battlefield.

Two years to lie about his skills because with Naruto's guidance he'd grown a hundredfold stronger and faster than had he done it on his own.

Yet it was still not enough.

He and Izuna still could not take control of the Uchiha.

These four before Madara and Izuna, kneeling with angry –defiant– scowls on their faces. They had tried.

And for that treason, for that failure, they were to be put to death.

Four pairs of unmastered Sharingan swirled angrily towards two perfectly calm and controlled Dojutsu. The bratling Heirs to the clan. Madara and Izuna. Completely emotionless. They obeyed their father's ordered without hesitation. And what was worse, they were powerful. Extremely powerful. Sixteen and fourteen yet both had managed to accomplish what those double and even triple their age could not.

And their skill was still growing.

They had three tomoe while most could only hope to gain two by the time they were 20. Madara was using his Sharingan now, not a single tomoe moving at all. A display of the control he applied; in essence, a true Heir to the Clan. Yet, why did they feel they could not place those two brats in charge? It was that uncertainty which had guided their admittedly foolish attempt to kill Taijima, a man as skilled as the Senju Clan Head and a man who had helped birth the two monsters he'd ordered to kill his own clansmen.

"The sentence for your treason is death. Be glad that I am merciful in this. I should have cut out your eyes and left you to the enemy." With that last cold statement of indifference, Taijima glanced, merely glanced, at his sons. They did not nod, they did not look to each other. They simply raised a kunai and struck, once, twice each and the four Uchiha traitors were no more.

Izuna and Madara had turned their heads down, standing straight and waiting, waiting for the order to say that they could leave.

That waiting, was a supreme effort of control. The blood was hot, the blood was wrong. This was the blood of their clansmen. Madara wanted to run, to run from himself and that which he had to do, all in the name of the Uchiha Clan. It wasn't the Uchiha that were so corrupt. No, it was Taijima. His father. One day . . . the day would come, where Taijima would no longer be able to control his sons and when that day came things would get better. They had to.

Madara knew he had to wait. He could not simply take control of the clan. He had to wait for his father to fall in battle. He had to go through the process naturally. Until then, he had no choice but to obey the man.

Madara's gaze was turned towards the floor so that none could see the angry, hateful swirl within the blood red of his Sharingan. So was Izuna's. However, Madara still caught sight of the single clear and tiny droplet of salty liquid that fell to the ground at his baby brother's feet.

That was what pushed him over even more than what he'd already been. A burst of anger at what he'd been forced to do to his own clansmen, and a burst of pain, of suffering, at the fact that his little brother had been forced to do it as well. Yet he could not even clench a fist to show this anger, this defiance. That would not be 'becoming' the Heir to the Uchiha clan.

Later, when they were alone, staring at the darkened blood still staining their hands, Madara whispered his apologies, his promises to do better, to be a better leader. Izuna cried. He didn't say a word. He only cried. And when he looked up at Madara, pure anguish marring his still far too boyish features, Madara could only gap in surprise at the Sharingan that gazed back at him with such sorrow it was hard to believe that it was all felt by one person. Izuna's eyes were different.

"Brother, Aniki, it hurts so much." The sob of a child, so far from the killer he was capable of being.

"Izuna . . ." Madara pulled the younger towards him, holding him close as he fell apart. "I'll make it better. I promise. Konoha will be built. Peace will come."

Izuna continued to sob, great heart wrenching sobs that told those who would listen of his suffering. Madara wished he could take away that pain, to pull it within himself so that Izuna would never have to feel so much torment again. Izuna cried more that night than any other night he had cried and Madara sensed a change in the younger Uchiha. He just knew, without having to be told, that this was the last time he'd ever see his baby brother cry.

"Aniki . . ." Izuna whispered hoarsely, once his crying had been quiet for much too long. Yet his pain was still so evident in those eyes, those eyes that were more than simple Sharingan. Those eyes gazed up imploringly at Madara, wide with an innocence unfairly ripped from them far too long ago. "Your eyes, they're different . . . They hold the same pain as I feel."

And there, in the slight reflection of that tortured gaze, something more than mere Sharingan peaked back at Madara. His eyes were different too.

.0.0.0.

Three years after Naruto's arrival and Hashirama could finally say he'd managed to master his wood style.

Oh, he'd managed to create the wood release long ago but there had always been something missing; it had always felt like there needed to be more. And it had taken him this long to figure it out.

Senjutsu. He had to master enough of senjutsu to mix at least a slightly amount of it into his water and earth chakra. Senjutsu was the chakra of all living things. Wood was something that was alive, something that grew and become so much more. It made sense that with senjutsu mixed into his jutsu, it became powerful in a way that on a whole new level, a league entirely of its own.

He could use his wood release in any situation, adapt it to whatever purpose he needed. It was instinctive to rely upon the ninjutsu and he hardly had to pause to come up with some innovative way to utilise it.

So yes, he could say he'd mastered it.

"Hashi-kun?" The seventeen year old turned towards the soft call of his name. He'd been training, staying in the forest more and more as he'd strove to master his bloodline and the use of senjutsu and often, time would become alien to him.

"Mito-chan." A soft smile of adoration tugged at tired lips. "Is it that late already?"

"Hai. You should come home for dinner now." Mito grasped a calloused hand and held it close to her chest. "You need rest. Nawaki-kun misses you."

"Nawaki is only a few months old. He doesn't even realise I'm gone." Hashirama still smiled brightly at the mention of his son.

"Hush. He knows when you're there. He's got that same silly smile of yours." Mito tugged on Hashirama's hand and began leading him back to their home. It was a small house, more on the edge of the clan compound than what the clan had felt right for the Clan Heir. But Hashirama had wanted the large space to be able to practise his ninjutsu freely while still being close to home.

Tobirama was in a small house not too far, having chosen to move with Hashirama but not into the same house. The fifteen year old was far too independent for Hashriama's liking, but there wasn't much he could do about it. At least the other Senju had chosen to stay close by.

Tobirama was there to greet them when they walked through the door, a bundle of blankets in his arms with only the smallest tuft of red poking through to show that Nawaki was within all that material.

Hashirama's face split into a silly grin as he gently took the small child from his younger brother. It was times like these that only served to further strengthen Hashirama's resolve to bring Konoha to fruition. After all, he wanted his son to grow up in peace, not some meaningless clan war.

He would achieve his goal. Just, sadly, not quickly enough to prevent Nawaki from being trained as a Shinobi. Could they do that? Tobirama's eyes flickered over to Hashirama's, reflecting the depressing undertone that Hashirama's thoughts were following.

Batsuma would order that Nawaki's training start the moment the boy could walk. Could Hashirama do it, knowing that the moment his son was proficient enough he'd be sent out into battle, his chances of coming back very slim.

The bright red hair, the chocolate brown eyes. He was the spitting image of his mother. If he inherited her chakra reserves, her sensing ability, Batsuma would not stand for Hashirama's choice to teach Nawaki another profession, something that wasn't a Shinobi. As it was, Nawaki was related to Hashirama, and hadn't he already proven that he himself was a deadly Shinobi with powerful chakra all of his own? Nawaki was genetically brilliant. There was a very slim chance that Nawaki wouldn't become an excellent Shinobi.

Could Hashirama do it? Could he train his son, with the hope that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't die?

There was only one solution. He would have to take over the clan before Nawaki was to be sent on his first mission. That was all there was to it.

Hashirama would gladly kill his own father if it meant keeping his son safe. The worst part about it was, Hashirama had enough skill to get away with it. No one would ever know it was him and the only one that ever had a chance of guessing was Tobirama. Tobirama wouldn't sell him out. No . . . the younger Senju would sooner help him than condemn him.

For now, he would enjoy the peace and happiness his family afforded him.

After all, all too soon, they would see the call of the battlefield once again.

.0.0.0.

Four years.

That was how long it had been since Naruto had arrived in this world, and roughly three and a half years since they'd seen Naruto at all.

Mito hadn't even been allowed to see him when she went to visit the Uzumaki clan either and returned after every visit with a frown of confusion. Yet she would not say more on the topic.

Nawaki was a year old now. His chubby legs struggling to find purchase on the rough ground as he smiled at those around him.

A part of Hashirama watched proudly as his son walked around them completely unaided, as he had been doing for some months. Another part of him grew despondent because he knew as sure as he took his next breath Batsuma would come here soon. No matter how slow a child was, all of them could walk soon enough. And he'd come to see if Nawaki had reached that point yet.

. . . And he'd be angry that Hashirama hadn't told him when the boy had learnt how months ago.

"I wonder brother, if he inherited my brains or yours?" Tobirama joked with a small, rare chuckle.

"Humph, obviously it will be mine." Hashirama replied, "He's my son."

"Oh then I hope he inherited the Uzumaki's Kami given luck as well." Tobirama's smile widened a fraction just as Hashirama's cloud of doom spread above his hanging head as Hashirama muttered "So mean. . ."

"I just wonder if he's going to have that neat little bloodline of yours." Mito mused out loud. "Can you imagine, a little Uzumaki with two bloodlines? I doubt he'd have the Uzumaki one though. I hope he doesn't. Uzumaki Clan law dictates that all those with the Uzumaki bloodline must return to the Clan Compound. That would mean either I go with him, or we lose him." Mito's gaze was distant as she spoke of this possibility. A seemingly random series of thoughts, yet Hashirama knew his wife well enough by now to know that this had been bugging her for some time. "But." She began with a silly smile directed at Nawaki before she scooped him up. "Let us not dwell on that which is only slightly possible when there are so many other, much happier things to reflect upon."

Hashirama stood for a moment, simply to let Mito's statements sink in. He'd never even thought of that possibility. Was it selfish to wish that Nawaki never developed a bloodline at all? If he did have a bloodline, he'd had an advantage in battle, he would be better than the average Shinobi. That was good wasn't it?

Yet it was for that reason alone that Hashirama wished Nawaki did not have a bloodline. Because then he'd be just an ordinary Senju. Then he wouldn't be used as nothing more than a powerful tool. He wouldn't be used like Batsuma continuously used Hashirama and Tobirama. He would just be an ordinary Shinobi who was very skilled in everything he could possibly be skilled in. Because if Hashirama had to train his son to be a killer, he'd make sure he trained his son well.

.0.0.0.

Madara's blade clashed loudly with that of Hashirama's. So it was only kenjutsu this time, was it not?

The same hum drum as it was before, and the time before that and the time before that . . . The same song and dance. A predictable series of events that were beginning to crack. Soon others would begin to notice and Madara did not have a way to explain.

To explain why he did not try his very best to kill the Senju brat. To explain why they both walked away with minimal injuries.

And so, Madara closed his eyes, stopped his Sharingan from seeing, as he ducked under the predictable swipe of Hashirama's blade and ran his own though the other Shinobi's shoulder.

There was no usual resistance of bone and flesh, no sickening suction as he pulled the sharpened blade free once more, Hashirama's cry of pain ringing in his ears.

It was more effortless than what it had any right to be.

In the briefest of moments, a moment that none would ever see or know about, Madara grabbed the back of Hashirama's neck and yanked the other's head towards him. Their foreheads crashed together and Madara opened his eyes to see Hashirama's features clenched in pain.

"Sacrifice, Watashi no hitoshii*." Madara whispered before letting go and jumping away from Hashirama.

"Why did you leave?!" An Uchiha demanded angrily. "You'd finally managed to wound him!"

Madara did not say a word. He did not have to. Hashirama's blasted bloodline took effect and encased the Senju in a cocoon of wood. Immediately after that, Tobirama arrived, eyes automatically finding Madara's. And within those chestnut irises, a deep burning coldness was directed at the Uchiha, so much so it was hard to believe that Tobirama and Madara were comrades fighting for the same goal. Yet there was understanding as well. Tobirama knew what Madara had done.

"Because I cannot deal with the other Senju brother as well." Madara replied tonelessly. "One is enough of a headache and those two work together flawlessly as a team."

.0.0.0.

"Mito."

Said red haired now Senju turned to the call, features serious as they registered the tone in which her name had been quietly uttered. "Tobirama."

No kun. This wasn't a social call. The other was here for something. Something serious, something important.

"I require your assistance in something." Tobirama looked away, eyes not meeting Mito's as he made his request. Whatever he wanted, it shamed him to ask for it, perhaps even to have it at all. "It's a jutsu, that's based largely upon the sealing arts."

Mito tilted her head slightly, taking in Tobirama's features. Why would a jutsu shame the older ninja?

"Sealing?" Mito asked instead of what she truly wanted to know.

"Hai. If done right, all I will need is a marker, placed on a surface in an area and I will be able to focus my chakra upon that mark and essentially teleport to that marker. I could be anywhere in an instant. It would really benefit the Senju on the battlefield." Tobirama explained, his tone that of a Shinobi, which meant that it was utterly toneless.

He was hiding something. When it came to Tobirama, the most telling thing was when there was nothing. Right now, Mito couldn't help but wonder that if helping her brother-in-law was really the right thing to do. But she couldn't say no. What he wanted, it truly did sound like a powerful jutsu.

And a powerful jutsu would only help them.

Then why was he so ashamed of it?

"Alright Tobi-kun, I'll help you. At the very least you should use it to keep Hashi-kun safe. However a sealing jutsu of this calibre will take time. More time than what you're estimating on. So you'll have to be patient as you work with me, and you will work with me. I won't help you otherwise. There's no point to any of this if you do not understand how your own jutsu works. That would likely end badly." Mito stated and she noted the slightly relief that barely crossed Tobirama's features.

She hoped that whatever he was planning, that he knew what he was doing and that he was willing to accept whatever consequences that might come with it.

.0.0.0.

Madara scoffed as he faced his opponent. Not Senju. Not Uchiha. They didn't stand a chance.

"You Uchiha think you're so great with those Sharingan of yours! You don't know what it really means to be a Shinobi!" The enemy Madara was facing was perhaps a year, maybe two years older than him.

"Well we aren't at the top of the Clan Wars for nothing." One of the Uchiha behind Madara scoffed. Why was it they never tried to help?

"Just because you can see better doesn't mean you can fight better. Try copy this you monsters! I'll get you all for what you did to my family!"

Madara was forced to leap backwards when a shard of . . . was that ice? Whatever it was, it was fast and it came out of nowhere. It was sharp too. The blood trailing from the cut on his cheek tickled slightly and Madara raised a hand to wipe it away.

"Whatever that brat did, I can't copy it." One of the two Uchiha with Madara growled.

"Bloodline then." The other responded.

"I'll handle this." Madara stated and the two Uchiha immediately fell silent. Would Madara need to use his Mangekyou Sharingan for this? No, the older ninja wasn't skilled enough. He had raw power but he wasn't skilled enough to actually use it in a way that would allow him to actually kill Madara. Even injuring the Uchiha Heir was a stretch.

"So you can create and manipulate ice. An interesting bloodline. But is it enough?" Madara commented as he regarded the older Shinobi.

"Che! I guess we're just going to have to find out." Madara stood absolutely still as the other Shinobi ran through the hand signs for an easily recognisable water jutsu. He already knew that he wouldn't have to move out of the way when the Shinobi raised his hand to his lips and a spray of water was directed at him. For one thing, the Shinobi hadn't placed enough chakra into the jutsu for it to have the force needed to project to where Madara was standing.

If that was the way he was starting he was sorely over estimating his own abilities.

Madara tilted his head slightly when the Shinobi smirked. "Your arrogance will be your downfall, Uchiha Madara."

Madara tensed when walls of ice sprang up from the puddle of water created by the water jutsu he'd thought had been useless. No, it hadn't been. It had only been the preparation. Still, this didn't change Madara's earlier assessment. He could still defeat the Ice Wielder.

"Let see how much you can see when I can be anywhere I need to be before you've even noticed me move." The Shinobi's smirk widened before he stepped backwards, the walls of ice having surrounded both Madara and himself.

Madara was curious, nothing more, when the Shinobi disappeared within his own creation, looking like a reflection in one of the ice ponds he and Izuna had played upon during particularly cold winters.

He was less curious when a senbon flew at him from that very mirror, forcing him to step to the side in order to avoid it. So the Shinobi could attack him but he could not attack his enemy.

That was smart but he had to run out of senbon eventually and in that event he'd have to attack directly. Madara could wait till then. He was patient.

Another senbon flew at him, followed but a barrage more. They were simple enough to dodge and Madara wondered why the Shinobi had had such bravado.

Then the reflection moved to another mirror, running the circumference of the mirrors as the Shinobi threw his senbon. Madara scowled as some managed to sink into his shoulder. Madara was going to have to get creative to dodge if the Shinobi could be in any mirror he desired.

But then another revelation made itself known to the young Uchiha. The Senbon was cold. Almost to an icy degree. Tilting his head slightly, Madara watched the trajectory of one of the senbon, taking in the way it flew past his cheek and shattered upon impact of the mirror behind Madara.

Ice senbon. The Shinobi wasn't going to run out of weapons. He merely made more every time he needed them. Madara knew that now was the time to switch to attack. Defence was no longer enough.

Using a fireball jutsu was second nature to him. So much so that he didn't even need to perform the hand signs.

When the jutsu hit the mirror that held the reflection of the Shinobi, it was powerful enough to completely shatter the mirror. However Madara saw the way the Shinobi flickered over to another mirror. More senbon flew at him, forcing Madara to duck away from the shattered mirror. It gave the Ice Wielder enough time to create another mirror.

Ah, so as long as the mirrors stayed intact, the Shinobi thought he could win. Well that could be easily changed.

Madara drew his sword before rushing straight for one of the mirrors. He was surprised when the mirror did not shatter the moment his blade impacted with the reflective surface. So they were stronger than what they originally appeared. Was ninjutsu strong enough to break them all?

Well that was a redundant question.

Madara leapt away from the mirror and towards the centre of the structure, eyes taking in the reflection of his enemy as the Shinobi flickered from mirror to mirror.

"You'll find that my mirrors aren't as easy to break as all that, Uchiha Madara. You have yet to realise just how trapped you are."

"We shall see about that. I broke one of them, I'll do it again." Madara promised.

Yet the second fireball he aimed at a mirror did not even make the mirror melt. Had the Shinobi strengthened the mirrors for some reason? It would make sense after Madara's initial success in breaking one mirror. Therefore Madara could try increasing the strength of his jutsu, he could try a different jutsu, strengthen his ninja tools, or he could be a true Uchiha and use a different method entirely.

However, up till this point he'd managed to not even activate his Sharingan, fighting this battle without them. There were no jutsu he could copy since he was fighting against a bloodline and his visual skills were far above exceptional without his Sharingan.

With a sigh Madara close his eyes, opening them again to reveal blood red Sharingan. In the split second that the Shinobi flickered to a stop in the mirror directly in front of the Uchiha, ready to throw more ice senbon, Madara's tomoe whirled and the genjutsu struck. Most enemy Shinobi could not help the urge to look directly into a Sharingan, just to see the legendary dojutsu for themselves.

It was usually the last thing they ever did.

The hand that had been about to flick the senbon in Madara's direction went limp, and the Shinobi fell out of his own mirrors. The moment he hit the ground, the mirrors shattered, leaving nothing but a puddle of water behind.

Madara walked over to the Shinobi, features completely blank as he took in the teen's frozen form. He bent down and tilted the older teen's head towards him. "I think I shall let you live, Ice Wielder. Your skill is interesting. However you have yet to learn how to properly use it. Keep in mind though, that should you ever face an Uchiha again, they will not extend the same courtesy. For that matter, a Senju might not either. There is a reason we are at the top of the Clan Wars. You'll do well to keep your mouth shut during the next battle you find yourself in, or at the very least have the skill to back up your boasting."

As Madara walked away, he wondered just how far the Ice Wielder would get in these times of endless fighting. Had his family members he'd spoken of earlier had the same bloodline? It wasn't impossible.

Yet it did not matter. Every jutsu had its flaw, its weakness. As an Uchiha, it was his job to see them and exploit them.

"Why did you let him live?" One of his companions asked.

"Because I have what I need and killing him serves no purpose. Besides, perhaps if he grows powerful enough, he can be an adequate test of my strength, but I doubt that he will. He does not have the determination needed to defeat me. He did not have the look in his eyes of one dedicated to vengeance. For all intents and purposes, he's more of a child then I am." Madara replied. "He won't be a threat to our clan. He simply does not have it in him."

"I hope you're right, Madara." A warning that should his words be untrue, then Madara would take the blame.

It wouldn't be the first time and it probably wouldn't be the last either.

.0.0.0.

Madara was 19 now. And he hadn't seen Naruto for four and a half years. Usually, if a Shinobi wasn't seen for even half a year it meant that the Shinobi had died. But Naruto would not be that weak would he?

As it was the Uchiha Clan Heir was sitting quietly next to Izuna, a group of Uchiha with them. There were perhaps 10 of them in total and they were seated around a large fire, speaking amongst themselves.

It was the day before a large mission, a mission large enough to warrant the need of both Izuna and Madara as well as eight or so other Uchiha. It was their task to eradicate a whole other clan, so that the Uchiha could have their land and their measly wealth.

It was a detestable mission.

"Oi, Madara-san, have you heard the rumours?" One Uchiha stated loudly, forcing the young Uchiha to look towards the caller.

He did not reply but rather raised a brow to prompt the other Uchiha to continue. "About the Shinobi who moves so fast all one sees of him is a yellow blur."

"Hai, and that his kenjutsu prowess is unmatched."

"And that his ninjutsu is powerful enough to change the landscape around him with only a single blow." Madara added. "Hai, I've heard them. The Shinobi they speak of is Uzumaki Naruto. Yet I have not met him in battle myself."

"You mean it's that blond Uzumaki that was such a pathetic weakling some years back. The one that went completely berserk on the battlefield and tried to kill his own allies?" One Uchiha scoffed, pulling his lip up in disgust.

"Hai, that very one. He is also the Uzumaki that stopped a clan fight between the Senju and the Uchiha. The unknown Shinobi who wore a cloak and challenged the clan heads themselves." Izuna replied.

"If he's so powerful, why isn't he fighting with the Senju? He used to, didn't he? Hard to miss a blond Uzumaki."

Madara didn't reply, and neither did Izuna. It was a good question. One they did not have an answer to.

.0.0.0.

They'd been fighting for days. Hashirama had been on the front lines for all of those hellish days and even he was starting to run out of chakra. At this rate he'd grow too exhausted to be of much use. He didn't even know what they were fighting for this time.

He was nineteen, yet he still felt like a child. Didn't his father think he was ready yet?

When Hashirama had asked, he'd been told the same as always, which had been absolutely nothing.

He'd been angry that day as well. Batsuma and Hashirama had been fighting again. Nawaki was two now, and Hashirama could not keep his father away any longer. It didn't help that the boy was clearly intelligent for his age. It didn't help that he had his mother's reserves.

At this point, Hashirama almost wished Nawaki had the Uzumaki bloodline, just so that his son would go back to the Uzumaki clan. He'd be safer there, than with the Senju.

Yet at the same time, he could not bear to let his son go. How had his father done this? Not just once, but four times?

So yes, when he'd first been told of the fighting, he'd been all too happy to have something to vent his frustrations out on. He knew he wasn't always violent and he was often called weak because he was more merciful than most. But he was a Shinobi like any other, and he was a killer just like them. His opponents were weak. Always falling before him. How was that even fair? Why were some Shinobi just so much better than others? Why did it have to be him?

All he wanted was to bring peace to this world. All he wanted was to end the fighting. In an ironic twist of fate, he just happened to be the best killer on this field. Madara wasn't here. In fact their opponent this time wasn't even the Uchiha. It was rare when that happened, an enemy would hire another clan, one they felt would garner more success or one they trusted more. Yet it wouldn't work. Only the Senju could fight the Uchiha and only the Uchiha could fight the Senju. That's was just the way it had always been.

However . . . his anger had long since passed, leaving nothing but the same sense of regret, the same deep exhaustion.

He just wanted it all to end.

He wanted Konoha.

The call for the retreat came and Hashirama cringed. It was only a temporary one. A slight truce from both clans, where at the end of each day they retreated , with the unspoken agreement to keep the peace during the night.

So far, such an agreement had only been broken once. It hadn't ended well for either of the clans involved.

Hashirama was exhausted but he knew that he wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight, same as all the previous nights upon this field.

"Hashirama-san!"

Despite his exhaustion, the Senju Heir snapped his attention to the call of his name, his training picking up on the urgency within the tone.

"You must come quickly. It's your brother!"

Hashirama felt his world collapse around him. He was sure his face was pale and his eyes wide. Heck, his mouth had probably flopped open as well.

Then he was running, despite how tired he was, despite how much his blood had frozen, he was running as fast as he could to where the other Shinobi was leading.

"Tobi!" Hashirama burst into the tent that had been set up as a make shift infirmary. The fact that his brother was here was bad in itself because most of the Shinobi on the field didn't have the medical experience and knowledge needed to actually care for the wounded. All the infirmary tent really was, was a quiet place to die if someone managed to get one there in time.

Only a few ever managed to make it out alive.

"Hashirama-san!" One of the Shinobi near his fallen brother looked to the call and relief flashed in her eyes. Not many female became ninja but some did; most looked to go into the medical field, preparing and administering bandages for the most part. Hashirama had more medical experience than any of the Shinobi in this tent and he was perhaps the only one that could help his brother now.

He rushed towards the small cluster of Shinobi only to see his baby brother lying on a mat, eyes clenched in pain as he bit his bottom lip to stop a scream from leaving his mouth.

Blood. There was so much blood.

"What happened?" Hashirama demanded.

"From what we can understand, he attempted a jutsu that didn't end well. He has sustained damage from both the jutsu and an enemy that took advantage of his weakness.

"It wasn't ready. Mito-chan told me it wasn't ready but I didn't listen." Tobirama managed to spit out. "I was desperate. I need that jutsu Aniki."

Tobirama was seventeen and he hadn't called Hashirama Aniki in years.

"Don't talk right now, Otouto. You need your strength." Hashirama dropped to his knees and spread his hands over his younger brother's chest. The armour had already been removed, leaving nothing but the dark underclothes that Tobirama usually wore around the compound.

"Don't. I can sense your chakra Aniki. You're too tired for this." Tobirama whispered.

"Don't you ever tell me not to try and save your life again, Baka!" Hashirama glared at his brother with such rage that the younger didn't try to say anything again. There were very few times that Hashirama acted the older brother that he was, and this was one of those times. In those times Tobirama knew better than to even think about arguing.

Yet, despite Hashirama's resolve to heal his brother, Tobirama was right. He didn't have the chakra needed. For one thing, the chakra needed to heal his brother would have to be intense, concentrated, which meant a lot more than what Hashirama had.

But he had to try. He couldn't give up. This was Tobirama. He couldn't stop now.

The green chakra surrounded his hands and began to sink into his brother's body. With this connection Hashirama began to feel the extent of the damage that his brother had sustained and what he felt shocked him.

It was as though some of his brother's very cells had been shifted out of place. What kind of a jutsu had he been trying?

There was also the vast amount of damage done by the enemy's sword; a sword that had cruelly and so inhumanly been serrated, so as to cause the utmost damage with the least amount of blows.

"Otouto . . ." Hashirama whispered, not daring to open the eyes that he'd closed. He did not want to see his brother's eyes right now.

He could feel his brother's chakra slipping, feel the way his brother's body sluggishly attempted to keep functioning. He'd felt a Shinobi die before, but he'd never imagined he'd have to feel it within his brother.

"Don't you dare give up on me Tobirama! I still need you! What about Konoha? You have to help me!"

Hashirama's eyes flew open, despite his earlier thoughts. Tobirama's eyes were beginning to glaze over. "I'm so sorry Aniki." The younger Senju sighed.

"NO!"

Hashirama needed to increase the concentration of the chakra he was using to heal his brother but he was already giving it all he had; in fact he was soon going to run out. "Tobi! No. Don't leave me!"

Tobirama's chakra slipped a little more and Hashirama choked on a sob. "Please Tobi, don't go."

Hashirama saw the green of his own healing chakra begin to fade, watched as Tobirama grimaced in pain because of it. Then he saw the one thing he had never hoped to see within his brother's eyes.

Peaceful acceptance.

That was the look only a Shinobi who had acknowledged their situation and had accepted it got. It was the look of a Shinobi who knew they were going to die. Hashirama had never seen it upon the face of a comrade that had made it out alive and it made his heart freeze.

Anger and determination burst to life within him and he refused to let his baby brother die. "NO!" He found himself growling. "I was powerless to help our brothers but I'm not powerless now. I am Senju Hashirama! I am the founder of Konoha and I will not stand at the head of the Senju clan alone. You WILL live!"

Inspiration hit, and hit hard. Hashirama needed more chakra, and so did his brother. There was chakra all around them. In every living thing.

Senjutsu.

Hashirama already knew how to focus senjutsu due to his Wood Release and now he was going to mix it with his medical ninjutsu.

Senjutsu was life, and it had to save his brother's.

Green grew brighter, changing to the purest white as Hashirama focused undiluted senjutsu into his body, through it and straight into Tobirama.

Tobirama gasped in surprise, eyes growing wide as the distant look was flooded out with pure stunned amazement. Hashirama did not stop even when his brother cried out in pain and began to squirm beneath his hands. "Hold him down!" He ordered to those that had been merely watching up till this point.

It hurt because it sped up the healing process one hundred fold. The damage that Tobirama had done to his own body warranted a lot of healing, a lot of excruciating pain. Tobirama's cells had to be rearranged in order to fix what the jutsu had broken. With this sudden inspiration to use senjutsu in medical ninjutsu came a barrage of other ideas, all to be addressed and sorted through at a later stage. For now though, he was going to focus on his brother. "You will live Tobirama. You don't get to die and leave me here." Hashirama glared at his brother. His brother had looked at him with those eyes. Those eyes he had seen a thousand times before and something within the older Senju had snapped.

"As long as I'm alive, you don't get to die!" Tears blurred Senju Heir's vision and he was surprised that he hadn't started crying ages ago.

A hand weakly brushed against Hashirama's wrist before falling back to the ground. Tobirama's way of apologising.

The pain grew too much for the teen, his eyes rolling back before his body went limp. He'd lost consciousness and no longer needed to be restrained. Yet there was still more healing to be done. Hashirama refused to stop until his Otouto was in nothing but the perfect condition. Anything less simply would not do.

.0.0.0.

Three days later Tobirama woke up in his room in the Senju compound.

He sat up carefully, far too used to being injured to sit up too quickly.

What had his brother used to heal him? It had felt completely different, something more.

Getting to his feet, Tobirama paused to test his balance. He felt fine. No, he felt amazing. Better than what he had in ages.

Walking to the door, he sensed the guard waiting outside before he was even ten steps away. Could the guard tell him what had happened?

"Where is my brother?" Tobirama asked as he opened the door.

"Tobirama-san." He was greeted with a bow. "Hashirama-sama is resting. He lost consciousness shortly after tending to your wounds and has yet to awaken. The mission was a success. Batsuma-sama arrived to take over after word of Hashirama-sama's condition reached him."

"Hashirama-sama?" Tobirama questioned, features remaining blank.

"H-hai. Batsuma-sama did not return from the battle."

So his father had died. And it wasn't even at the hands of the Uchiha. Tobirama closed his eyes. The jutsu he'd asked Mito to help him with, it meant nothing now. Its only purpose had been so that Tobirama could kill his own father without anyone ever catching him.

A jutsu that could let him teleport anywhere where he'd placed a marker meant that he could place a mark on his father and kill him before disappearing to another set up marker. For all the other Senju knew, he wouldn't even be in the village when his father was killed.

But the jutsu hadn't been ready yet. Even after he'd killed his father, he could see the benefits of such a jutsu on the battlefield and it would have been a great advantage.

However, it would appear he did not have to kill his father after all. Nawaki would be safe now. Hashirama's happiness would be safe.

Tobirama could not say if his tears were relief for the fact that he no longer had to bear the burden of killing his own father, or sadness for the fact that his father was dead. Whatever the reason, he did not care. He roughly wiped them away from his face before he continued walking, planning on going to his brother, who was now also his Clan Head.

.0.0.0.

"Madara-sama."

Said Uchiha paused at the entrance of the compound, returning from a mission.

"What has happened in my absence?" He asked tonelessly. Uchiha did not make mistakes and if this Uchiha was calling him sama instead of san, then something had happened.

"Your father fell in battle."

"I see. Has my brother been informed?"

"No. He has yet to return from his mission. Madara-sama."

Madara paused for a moment more. "Was the battle one with the Senju?"

"No. The mission was a routine mission that went bad."

"What was my father doing on a routine mission and how did someone manage to kill an Uchiha much less the Clan Head on a 'routine mission gone bad'?" Madara turned a cold gaze to the Uchiha, daring him to try and lie.

"It is unknown. None of the Uchiha managed to survive. However their eyes were all intact. None were taken."

Madara looked away. Something wasn't right there. But he had more important things to go through. Such has the Clan affairs. He was now their leader. A position he'd been born for yet one he still found himself thrust within.

"Inform me at once when my brother returns." Madara snapped before continuing to walk further into the compound.

Something wasn't right but it would have to wait till later.

.0.0.0.

Naruto stood atop the cliff that would later become the Hokage Monument. From there he could just make out both the Senju and the Uchiha compounds.

It was almost time to bring the clans together, but he needed to wait. Hashirama and Madara were now the newly appointed clan heads and they needed time to build trust. The Clan had to follow them to Konoha and for that they needed to trust their Clan Heads. So time was needed.

Naruto wondered if anyone would ever figure out that he was the one that had killed both the precious Uchiha and the Senju clan heads. He doubted it. After all, a henge did wonders and a henge enforced with a seal did even more.

He'd learned a lot in the five years that he'd been in this world. And he'd been watching over his precious people for the four and a half years they had not seen him.

He'd seen Nawaki's birth and Madara and Izuna's Mangekyou Sharingan activation. He'd even seen the beginnings of the creation of the Flying Thunder God Technique. That one had been particularly painful because it had confirmed to him that his father's greatest technique hadn't really been his to start with. However that didn't dampen his father's brilliance. After all, there was still the Rasengan and the seal that contained the Kyuubi within Naruto.

He was twenty one years old now. And he was almost ready to build Konoha.

Naruto smirked to himself. He was different but he liked to think he was still the same. His ninja way was still the same and he still believed that everyone had the ability to be good. But he'd lost most of his naivety and he'd grown somewhat weary within these war torn times.

Naruto took a step back, shoes crunching in the sand as he did so. He'd changed the way he dressed as well, choosing to wear the black and red cloak from his fight with Pein as well as his orange armour. The armour itself has been adjusted, redesigned to be sleeker, lighter. It helped him to move faster.

"Now you can begin your search for the others, Naruto." Kurama grumbled.

"Hai, now that I've perfected a way to keep the tailed beasts out of human hands, I can begin. When I return, I will be ready to become the Uzumaki Clan Head and in doing so, bring the three clans together to build Konoha. I just hope that those four don't go and do something stupid while I'm gone." Naruto replied out loud, uncaring of the fact that he looked utterly insane appearing to be talking to himself.

"They are the Legends that you grew up listening about, therefore they will survive." Kurama scoffed. "Now let us leave. I grow impatient."

Soon, all too soon, Konoha would be built.

.0.0.0.

*Watashi no hitoshii – my equal

The name Nawaki was chosen for no other reason than because it's the name of Tsunade's brother and I figured the Senju seem like a sentimental clan.

The next chapter will be mainly from Naruto's POV and what he was up to in the years the Uchiha and the Senju didn't see him.

Aaaaaaand in case anyone was wondering, here are the current ages for our five ninja:

Naruto – 21

Madara and Hashirama – 19

Tobirama and Izuna – 17

If anyone wants Mito and Nawaki's age, let me know. XD