—-
After a hard day's work of maintaining their clan's border, it felt nice to come back home to his family. Killing people on a daily basis was no easy task; father had made sure to teach him that well. At only eight years old, he had learned many things well, in fact. Like the fact that...
Madara was better than him.
"Pfft." He scowled, and crossed his arms over his chest. He marched over to the common area of the home, set down his katana, and subsequently removed his sandals. The area of the room was still flooded with the light from the evening sun. He liked it. He liked the way the shadows formed behind certain pieces of their sparse furniture. He liked the way the light made things shine just right; and when you stood at the perfect angle...oh man. The view was just mesmerizing.
Izuna really liked the light. A lot.
With a happy smile, he sighed, and wandered through the home, eager to find his father. "Otou-san!" he called. He made his way to his parents' room. "Otou—" he said, stopping when he saw his father sleeping on the futon. He ran over to him and knelt down beside him, placing a small hand on his shoulder, attempting to wake him from his early slumber. "Father, father! I am home!" he said.
"..." Tajima's coal-colored eyes slowly opened, and a low groan escaped him as he shifted, trying to sit up. He stared into space for a bit before turning his head and looking down at his eager young son. Heavenly rays of light spilled onto the boy from behind the man, where the sun was nearing its last moments for the day, squeezing out every last drop of warmth it had to offer before it disappeared into the long, cold depths of the night. Izuna's face was lit like an angel. "What is it, Izuna?" he asked gruffly.
He was blunt. "How does the Sharingan work, father?" he asked curiously. "I mean, how do you get it, exactly?" He recalled his delight at seeing Madara achieve his just the week before.
His father placed a weary hand over his eyes before slowly dragging it down his face. "Don't worry, Izuna. You will get yours, too, at some point...you are a good ninja."
The boy pouted, and sat back onto the wooden floor, crossing his arms. "That's not what I was asking, father."
An eyebrow quirked up at him. "Oh?"
He continued. "What I meaaann, is how do you get it? What makes it just appear out of nowhere?" He studied his father's face, checking for any hints of deceit before he got his answer.If I get it, then surely I can win against Tobirama this time!
"Hah...Izuna. How old are you?" he questioned flatly.
"I am almost nine years old, father," the little Uchiha answered matter-of-factly. He paused. "Wait, don't you know that already? Or do you! Did you forget how old I am? Because I know you haven't forgotten how old broth—" A hand was placed heavily on top of his head.
"Relax, boy. The Sharingan is something that only happens to a select few of our clan...you may or may not ever get it," he said in a stern, concrete tone. His face betrayed no expression.
Izuna's eyebrows came forward. "But didn't you just say—"
"...Then?" The rays of light were fading now, and only a faint glow could be seen on the boy's face. Tajima grimaced, lifting himself off the futon and into a standing position, and said, "You will understand later, Izuna. If I tell you right now, you may not understand. I want to be able to teach you properly..." He saw disagreement begin to take form on his face. "...and when the time comes," he assured, "...I will." He held his shoulder achingly as he moved away from the boy and proceeded to leave the room.
Izuna noticed the way his father held himself and frowned. Still, jealousy was on his mind. "But you are telling big bro all these things—"
"If you already know so much, then why are you asking, son?" He turned to face him as he stood in the doorway. "Right now...it is his time..." He sighed heavily. "Be grateful that you have even survived to your age. Have some respect for your fallen brothers..." He let his stern look linger for a moment, and then rubbed his forehead before exiting into the hallway. Two hours of sleep was not enough to cure his exhaustion after a battle with several Senju and Akimichi shinobi. This time he'd only had his brother and cousin along with him, and they were not doing very well. "Go..."
He stopped, and turned back once more. He was surprised to see Izuna still standing there, several feet away from him. "Go get your brother, will you...Izuna? I need to talk with him."
Izuna stood there, pouting slightly, but then quickly removed the frown from his face, remembering what his father had just told him. "Yes, father." He sturdily turned around and proceeded to exit the abode in pursuit of his older brother.
Meanwhile, Tajima returned to go find his wife. Right now, she needed him more...
Her illness had been eating away at her, slowly, but now...things were beginning to turn for the worse, at a much faster rate than before. Grimly, he reached her closed door before taking in a breath, trying to appear happy. A reason...what reason would he need...
Madara.
Unlocking his Sharingan. She hadn't been told yet, due to her state before... A smile came upon his lips. Yes, that was...reason enough, for sure. The awakening of their clan's legacy...
Before his eldest son would come to see him, he slid open the door and slipped inside for a brief moment to greet her.
—-
The young Senju paced back and forth across the grass outside his home. What was going on...what was going on... He stopped suddenly, noticing a familiar presence nearby. He turned his head to the side and saw Hashirama approach him, wearing a curious expression upon his face.
"Tobi? What are you doing?"
He stared at him intensely for a moment, and then returned to his pacing.
"...?" His brother raised his eyebrows. He tried to enter their home, but whenever he got near, Tobirama crossed his path. Back and forth, back and forth...
Hashirama sighed and began to peel off his armor, but decided to let his headband stay. "Tobirama? Is there something you need to tell me?" He tossed the armor onto the ground in front of the small abode.
"Yes..."
He continued to pace, back and forth, back and forth...
"Actually...no."
More pacing.
Hashirama scrunched up his face and whined at him, "Aah! Tobirama! Cut it out, you're making me nervous!"
At this, he stopped. He opened his mouth to say something, but after reading his elder brother's expression, he closed it, and resumed his pacing.
Hashirama fell onto the grass in a criss-cross position and performed the most epic facepalm he could. "Tobbiii~ra~ma~..." he groaned, looking up at his brother through his fingers. "Spit it out already!"
So bad...
He is so bad with words...
"Argh!" Tobirama grabbed his hair into his hands and pulled downwards. "You—"
His brother perked up. Now they were making some progress. "Okay..." he said slowly. "I...?"
"You..." Tobirama's eyebrows slid forward before he shook his head, sending his white hair into a more chaotic mess than usual. "M-Madara..."
"Now we're getting somewhere..." he said, completely unfazed by the name that fell from his brother's lips. Now...all you have to do...is finish the sentence! "I know you can do it, Tobi-chan!" he urged, in a falsely enouraging tone.
His younger brother glared at him, unintentionally making his brother hold back a snicker at seeing his adorable face trying to look threatening. "This is not funny, anija."
He raised his eyebrows once again. "Oh dear. A coherent sentence. Are you able to continue now, or can I just go inside and fall into the deepest slumber imaginable...?"
Frowning, Tobirama blinked at his brother's awkward phrasing. "Uhh..." He closed his eyes, and slapped his own hand to his head. "Aahh."
Tired by the events of the day, Hashirama sighed once again and stood up, making his way to move past his still-pacing little brother. However, just as he neared the entrance, Tobirama stood in front of him, blocking his way. Hashirama frowned down at him. He has been like this all week. "What is it already, little bro?" He settled a hand onto his brother's shoulder firmly, warmly. "What is eating you up so badly?"
Standing face to face, or rather face to chest, Tobirama stood quietly for a moment. He stared at the impeccable cleanliness on the front of Hashirama's shirt, kept spotless due the armor having been in place. "That week, when we met Izuna, his father and his brother...you remember?"
"Yes," he answered dryly, still staring into Tobirama's eyes which were focused only on his shirt. He looked down for a second. Was there something on there?
"...Just how long had you been seeing him?" he finally asked, and then looked up to meet his brother's eyes. He received a scowl in return.
"What, you hadn't been following me the whole time?"
"Obviously not," he retorted, frowning back at him. They stared at each other coarsely.
"What is it about that day that's pissing you off?"
His frown deepened. "I'm not mad. I just don't understand something..."
"...?" Hashirama's expression turned curious again.
"When Uchiha Tajima threw his tanto at me, you stopped it." His eyebrows slid forward in confusion. "...Why?"
"..." Hashirama slowly became horrified. Was he seriously asking that...? "What do...?"
"I mean, instead of throwing that rock to stop the blade, why didn't you try to cancel out the rock that Madara threw? Izuna would have died, right then!"
"...But...so would you..." Hashirama looked down at him seriously, incredulously. He was now genuinely horrified. He felt an involuntary stinging in one of his eyes.
"So?"
His expression became sad. "Tobirama...even if it meant winning against an enemy...I could never..." He examined his brother's expectant face with a steady, firm resoluteness. "There is no way in hell I would trade your life for an enemy's...I want you to know that, Tobirama..."
"...But..."
"No exceptions!" he raised his voice. "You saw what Madara did! He did the exact same thing! He could've stopped my rock from hitting the tanto aimed for you...but he didn't. You see? Brothers care about each other." He placed his other hand on the younger Senju's shoulder, as well. "Madara is not a bad person. Just like I did, he chose to save his own, instead of letting you both die." He studied the eyes of his little brother. In them was a mixture of confusion, understanding, relief, and love. It must be father... "You would've done the same, wouldn't you?"
Tobirama looked away, gradually realizing the kind intentions a family could have upon each other. He felt somewhat foolish in Hashirama's warm, almost paternal presence. It was like...he was being forgiven...for something...
"Yes..." he answered positively.
"So you see? If you would've looked out for me, then you should know that I would have done the same. Common sense, Tobi-chan!" He is so similar to how mom was...not just in appearance...I wonder if he remembers her as well as I do?
"...Thank you..."
Hashirama smiled gently. "Now...was that what you had wanted to say, all this time?" Had he just wanted to thank me, all along...? He removed his hands but then placed one on top of his head, ruffling up his shorter, snowy locks. "Tobirama..." He chuckled. "You are so awkward. You know that, right?"
"Pfft," he responded, and stepped out of Hashirama's way, reaching to retrieve the boy's carelessly tossed red armor from the ground. He picked it up, examining the metal surfaces carefully, and then turned around, watching his brother step inside.
If I could see Madara again...I'd ask about his brother... Hashirama sighed, and wondered, just as he did every day since the week past, if he would end up crossing paths with the Uchiha ever again.
—- —- —-
A/N: Replaced with Prologue content from Zephyr.
