CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Light and Shadow (II)

"You left partially blinded and returned almost completely blinded in one eye, infection in the eye and shoulder and a broken leg."

Sayuri looked at Tobirama who was by her side, his eyes closed and his hands crossed but the moment she held out her hand to him, his palm met hers instantly in a congratulatory slap. She beamed. Even with the bandage wrapped around her head and over her left eye, the smile lit up her entire face.

It was a week after Kagami and Sayuri returned from the Valley of Judgement and the diagnosis the medic-nin made was true. She was nearly blinded in one eye, but for whatever reason, she did not see it as much of a loss. The Eyebright had worked perfectly and within the first three days, her right eye recovered noticeably and she remembered sobbing as all the blurs became lines once again. She was limping and on crutches, but she could see and that meant more to her than anything. Even if it was just one eye. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

"Well, I think you're recovering fine," the medic-nin continued. "Just keep pressure off your right leg, and continue to apply the drops now only once a day for the next week. We'll take the brace off then."

She nodded, and said thank you before leaving. Tobirama straightened up away from the wall and followed her out. She walked by a glass window, and caught her reflection – a girl, her dark hair up, left eye hidden behind a bandage but right eye now back to its usual black. She knew that her left eye now was a lost cause, the white smudge was no longer just a smudge but now stark white ringed in black, but again – that was okay. She repositioned the crutch more comfortably and stopped, using the other stick to point at a small, wooden shop. "What's that?" she asked, having never seen it outside the hospital before.

"Tea shop."

"Oh."

He didn't say anything.

"Do you want to go in?" she continued, taking wobbly steps in front of him seeing as to how she could not twist to do so. He sighed and although he didn't nod, he moved his head towards it. She smiled.

She didn't exactly know why but for the past couple days since they returned, Tobirama was strangely void of any missions or even calls. When she had asked him before, he said it was because Hashirama was in other lands to spread the Tailed Demons among them and that they needed a person to step in to take lead in his absence but it still didn't explain why Tobirama was always there in the morning and early afternoon to accompany her. Of course, it wasn't like he was stuck to her like glue. At around one or so, he would leave to tend to his own matters but she didn't mind. Kagami would then step in, help her out and talk to her about his training now that he unlocked the Sharingan.

Her smile faltered when he opened the door and she didn't recognize a single face there. If anything, they seemed almost...angry to see her walk in. There was a woman there who she assumed was the server from the tray she was holding had stopped altogether and stared. And then she placed the wooden tray of tea onto a table and bowed a full right angle. "Tobirama," she said politely, adding the -sama to her address. He frowned but nodded. He looked around at the tea shop that had a dozen or so people spread throughout it. They turn their attention way, but Sayuri could not help from blushing from the earlier gawks. She was not used to being observed as if she was a potential threat.

Truth was, she had forgotten that she was an Uchiha over the past couple days; forgot that the Uchihas did not often went to places like this, not when the very same was offered within their own neighbourhood. More importantly, she forgot that people in her clan had perhaps killed several family members of the people that were sitting here right now. She could not meet their eyes.

"I'm glad that there's success in the business," Tobirama was saying to her. The woman's face lit up and it brought attention to the sharp contrast of her hazel eyes against bronze coloured skin.

"Well, you know how grandfather is," she said with a certain fondness in her eyes and melody in her tone.

"Ah, of course. How is Tomoyouki?" Tobirama inquired and she was surprised that he knew the man's name. It wasn't until Sayuri saw the engraved silver pendant that hung from the woman's throat that she realized that this woman was a Senju. And not only that, but her voice seemed familiar to her.

"His knee is acting up, but he's still on that mission to brew every tea from every single leaf he could possibly get a hold of," she laughed and there was a pleasant, musical ringing tone. Sayuri smiled despite herself. Tobirama's face softened but then his eyes flickered to Sayuri and held a certain amused look to it again.

"Knee, hm?" he simply said but she flushed at that, shooting him a look. He turned back to the woman. "Well, at least you get to help him here close to work." Close to work?

And then Sayuri remembered.

Hospital.

She was the woman from the day she returned back from Kumogakure – sort of – and before the valley. The woman that spoke of Tobirama and although people had assumed Sayuri was innocent and blind to such a topic, she instantly knew that this woman liked Tobirama. Like like. She could see it in the way she held herself, as if presenting only the very best, and in the way she had admonished Sayuri for asking about him.

She understood this woman now - she had known Tobirama before the era of Konoha. She knew him as brother of the leader of the Senju clan and it made sense that she would scold anyone - Sayuri included - that took him away from that. Before she knew what she was doing, Sayuri leaned against a crutch and held out a hand. "I'm Sayuri," she introduced, hoping to show that she was not just a shadow relying onto Tobirama who followed him everywhere but a separate individual, "Uchiha Sayuri."

The woman paused, her lips parted in a slight inhale before she slowly shook Sayuri's hand. "Senju Misama, I tended to you before," she said with a sort of professionalism that Sayuri suspected it was a way of saying that their encounter and conversation was not a secret.

"I thought I recognized your voice somewhere!" Sayuri said with a snap of her fingers as if she just realized it. Tobirama's sighed, covering his face.

"Don't mind her, Misa," Tobirama said and then placed a hand behind Sayuri, leading her to a table. Sayuri did not miss his nickname to her and something about that disappointed her. She supposed him calling her Sayu was no big deal since he shortened everyone's name. Although she shed the strict, shinobi discipline, she still decided not to be so blatant with her emotions and did not let hers show. "So is there anything you would like? Grandfather just created a new blend."

"Anything with honey would be amazing," Sayuri said quickly, smiling, and Tobirama sighed again, perhaps regretting coming with her this morning. Misama blinked but nodded warily, as if she did not quite believe someone could be that enthusiastic about tea. Tobirama shook his head, ordering nothing and the woman left.

"Out of everything to excite over...you decide it to be something as insubstantial as tea," he mumbled as he rested the side of his face against his knuckles, his arms propped on the table tiredly.

"What's wrong with that?" She frowned.

"It's water steeped in leaves," he said flatly.

"Isn't that amazing?" she said instead as she leaned in. "That just leaves could change the flavour of water?"

"No." He looked up at her. "Have you had anything today aside from tea?" he asked and she rolled her eyes. Tobirama had taken a habit into asking about her diet, with always the same response – yes, she had ate something; no, not all of it; not really, it was more like a snack; a couple hours ago; a couple minutes ago; I'm eating something right now! I'm sitting right in front of you!

But truth was, she could not bring herself to eat a full meal. Because the instant she even walked into the kitchen at her home, she would be overcome with grief. Her mother wasn't there, wasn't there to cook meals and share dinner with her. And it was hard because although meals were mandatory, she saw it more as a tradition she had with her mother. Every single night, sitting there in the small, modest room eating and talking. But how could she possibly do that now, without the other? She couldn't.

So instead, Sayuri got into the habit of picking up snacks and nibbling it throughout the day, having no certain hour or anything more extravagant than bits of bread, fruits or sweets. Snack foods – not full, proportioned meals.

But she didn't tell him that, not when his own parents were dead. It didn't feel right to complain or dwell in.

"I had strawberries," she said, her eyes wandering.

"Strawberries," he repeated and she turned to him curiously. The way he had said it made it sound meaningful and it took her a moment to remember that she had once offered him strawberries before. Ironically enough, she had asked if she was hungry and surprised when he wasn't – and now the situation had turned. But instead of remarking further on it, he asked slowly, "did you really receive beatings from your clan?"

She flustered.

Well that came out of nowhere.

The truth was, she had. Whenever they were annoyed of how obsessive she had trained to no results, it wasn't unusual for a random Uchiha to show up and hold her face so tight with their thumb and index fingers as they demanded to see her Sharingan and her cheeks would feel sore, or maybe a terse shove or a grab. Most of the bruising were not from the very hands of the Uchiha - mostly it was from the ground...that she fell onto. Because she was shoved. But the thing was, she had never seen it as cruel. It was frustration. And she was had been frustrated too and sometimes, maybe she needed that pain to sharpen her mind.

Of course, it stopped when her mother realized that the bruises were not from falling or accidentally self-inflicted. "But I wasn't defenseless. I had my mother," she said quietly and he knew that she did not want to talk about it further. He leaned back.

"Was she good to you then?" he asked politely, cruising through the past tense quickly but she flinched and he knew that she noticed. Her eyes – eye – darkened and glazed over for a moment.

"She was," she smiled, not looking at him, "she was the greatest." Then her eye flickered up at him. "And you? I don't think I know anything about your parents."

"My father is dead," he said and then he flinched the slightest – just a tic, really. But she didn't react, nothing but her hands that balled up into fists on her lap indicated how uncomfortable she was. The air stiffened and he wished he was anywhere from here. Quickly, he switched onto the next and said, "my mother past away as well during childbirth." He paused. "Not from me, for my younger brother."

"You have a younger brother?" she asked, her face opening up. She didn't know that. He looked away, and this time it was he who looked uncomfortable.

"Yes, his name was Itama." Was. "He was killed." By an Uchiha. "I think you would have gotten along with him."

Determined to avoid sad topics, she jumped on the latter note. "Really?" she murmured, wondering what a younger Senju would look like. Would he have dark hair and tan complexion as Hashirama, or more fair tones like Tobirama? Or maybe he was a combination of the two – dark hair and light eyes, or light hair and dark eyes?

Tobirama nodded. "He was kind," he said, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table, "too kind, gentle. Easily swayed."

"Did you two get along?" She was an only child, and was naturally curious about sibling relationships. He nodded but before he could say anything, Misama arrived back and set down small, chocolate-coloured teacups adorned with white leaves at its rim onto the table along with a teapot. She poured it ceremoniously by Tobirama's side with a warm smile but then reached and more like spilled it onto Sayuri's. Once she left, Sayuri continued. "I wonder how he looks like..." She spoke to herself swishing the tea around in her cup.

"You are too curious for your own good."

"Do you have pictures, portraits?" she asked him, leaning forward once again.

"In my home, yes," Tobirama admitted. Her eyes brightened and she sat up straight. She had never thought about Tobirama's house before but now she needed to see it. Before she could even ask, he saw the way her mouth opened and cut her off. "No."

"But -"

"Absolutely not."

"It's not as if -"

"There is no way I am showing you where I live."

"I can find out -"

"No."

She stopped, deflated. And then, "do you live with Hashirama?"

He regarded her with a look of irritation. "Of course not," he frowned, his red eyes on her intently, "he has a family of his own."

"So you live by yourself?"

He didn't answer.

"That isn't even private information," she insisted. Then she held up her wrist that although was bare, startled a reaction out of him. His mouth twitched and his eyes narrowed defensively. "After all, you branded me like a cattle and can now show up whenever you want. The least you could do is -"

" - this brand saved your life -"

" - and potentially be how you can break into -"

" - why would I ever -"

" - and you didn't even ask, didn't even mention -"

" - does it really matter? In the end, it saved your -"

" - details."

He stopped and characteristically crossed his arms, sighing for the third time in the past ten minutes. "You won't give up, will you?"

She pretended to consider it, but then gave up and spoke quickly instead. "Probably not."

He looked at her steadily, and she returned his gaze with the same confidence. She willed herself not to feel intimidated nor bullied by his expression but it was hard to when Senju Tobirama was the one staring at her like that. At last, he stood up and it was only when he was at the door did he turned around and prompted in an annoyed tone, "well?" that she realized he was giving in.

She blinked, and shot up – stumbling – and propped herself back up on the crutches before running as best as she could out of the shop, leaving dozens staring at the two with amazement and shock, the tea untouched and cooling, and a woman in the back, the tray held tight to her chest and a breath trapped in her lungs.

xxx

Sayuri suspected he lived close to the heart of Konoha, but not that close. Right behind the Hokage Monument in the small distance from the mountain to the forest was a home, not too grand in size nor was it small and modest. It was plain – no gardens, no adornments but the lights-out curtains at the window – but it wasn't necessarily boring. It was a U shaped home, with two parts of the house extending into the forest, and a well by the side. To her surprise, there were no fences or gates or any sort of barrier. "Is this it?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you not impressed?"

"I didn't have an expectation in mind, so no." She walked towards the door. He looked at her cautiously but she just knocked on it and he knew that she wouldn't be satisfied with just the exterior.

"I spend more time in office than at home," he said and that fact was the sort of thing that was so obvious and a given and yet it made so much sense to her that he did. He unlocked the house with a seal – his hand on the door, activating swirls of black in fonts foreign to her – and it swung open.

And there were books, books everywhere.

As she explored more, she discovered his office that made up the west "wing" where there were even more books. Books and scrolls and ink and maps scattered all over. There was no kitchen, nothing but the bar and cabinet in the corner of the entrance room but aside from that, the place was more like a library or building than a home. And of course, everything was organized. Given his personality, she was not surprised by the order of it. She ran her fingers over the spines of books that made up three quarters of the wall, never before expecting so much to be written. Scrolls covered the tables and were straightened by – you guessed it – more books.

She had only one word: "Wow." She looked around, amazed and repeated it.

She did not run away from written words, nor did she embrace it as much as he seem to but she couldn't help but be impressed by the sheer abundance of his collection. There was everything here – from journals, clan histories, tales of the Sage of Six paths, geography, and of course, jutsu. In fact, she was sure that more than half of the books were on the study of all sorts of jutsu. She kept on blinking, rubbing her eyes in disbelief. Occasionally she would read out the titles and he would tell her a brief summary and she would either nod and feign understanding – he knew when she didn't, of course – or she would crack open it herself. She held four in her arms of things he would lend to her, things about the Sage, about fuinjutsu and fire manipulation, and was still continuing. Just looking at all the words were giving her a headache, let alone doing more than reading just the titles as she had.

And he stared at her all the while, watching her reaction carefully. He looked at her in a way he had never before - but she didn't notice. She was too busy studying his bookshelf.

"You are amazing, Tobirama," she said at last in a dazed tone, finally uttering words that were not about his books. He shrugged. The movement snapped her out of it. "So the picture?"

He frowned. "In my room."

"Well?"

"Well stay here."

"But -"

"No."

"But that's why I came here!"

"Really?" An eyebrow raised and he walked closer to her, tapping the books she held at the crook of her arms, "I suppose leaving with all of this is not enough?" Her mouth twitched and he continued. "If you leave them behind here, perhaps you could follow me." She couldn't, but he wanted to see what she would choose anyway. Her eyebrows pulled together and she looked longingly at the hardcover and worn-through books. She sighed.

"Fine," she said in a defeated tone and he didn't know why he was disappointed but he had thought she would choose the books over her curiosity – unless she had only asked for them to be polite, to which he would not only be disappointed but mildly disgusted. But then she said, "just be quick." Her arm tightened around them protectively. No. Possessively. And at that, she saw a flicker of a smile on his face as he turned away.

When he returned, she was left staring at a painted picture of a young boy – no older than six – with wide, gentle eyes and a kind smile. He was a mixture of light and dark as she suspected, but not in the way she had thought. His hair held both colours, divided down the middle. He didn't look as...fierce as Tobirama, nor bold as Hashirama but the way the artist had captured his gaze did him justice. She stared at the picture for a lot longer than she noticed, just staring at every line, ever mark against the fabric.

And she didn't know why, but then she felt sad. Unbearably and unreasonably sad for this boy. Or maybe, for Tobirama who lost him.

"How did he die?" she asked softly.

"He was killed." He didn't say anything more but she had gotten good at guessing what he would say next. She took a deep breath and handed it back to him.

"By an Uchiha?"

He didn't respond and in that, she got her answer.

She rubbed her eye and then shifted her head and slipped her finger beneath the bandage too. "I'm sorry," she whispered and then she looked at Tobirama again and then at the boy in the picture at his hand and at the books she held awkwardly and around at the house that he did not stay in and she just felt sad. Sad that they were all victims of war and hatred and how there was nowhere they could escape all of this because peace seemed so unreachable amidst all the fighting.

But not here, not in Konoha.

"I'm so sorry," and she wasn't sure how it happened but one moment she was clawing into the books and the next, they were on the floor, startling a jump out of her and taking her breath along with it. And she stared at them on the ground for a long, silent moment before she shuddered and covered her face in her hands, frustrated.

She was not one to cry for every little thing – despite assumptions made from her character – she just felt sad. Maybe it was a late reaction to her mother's death, a later to her father's but whatever it was, she could not contain them. The sting of tears were real, and the feeling of her heart being pulled was real. Words smothered against her palm but she desperately tried to get them out anyway. She was so happy, so carefree earlier - and now she was crumbling. "I'm sorry, Tobirama – I am. Please believe me."

And why wouldn't he believe her?

"Sayuri."

She shook her head, face still covered.

"Sayu," he said again and this time, as always, she looked up. She wiped her face against her sleeve but it barely made a difference. Her eyes were wet and it itched against her cheek. He placed a finger at the tip of her chin, tilting her face up so she was looking at him through half-opened eyes. "Don't cry."

"I'm sorry."

"I know you're sorry, but remember, you are a shinobi. Control yourself. Control your emotions."

She bit down on her lip, and nodded. She would, she will. But first, she looked down and struggled for a deep breath to out-do the shaky ones, unable to meet his eyes and seeing her like this - so obviously weak, and yet trying to be strong anyway shifted something inside of him. He sighed, his eyes losing its edge. "But then again," he said tiredly, "there's really no point to in front of me."

And his voice was too gentle and she was not sure if she had imagined it or not. But then he touched her face and she felt his thumb sweep below the patch over her left eye. And then he stopped, staring at her passively before removing the slip and letting it drop on the floor. He stared down at her mismatched eyes – one dark as black, and looked as if clouds were trapped in a ring of black, and glanced at the two parallel scars by her face - one ran right through her eye, the other on the edge of her face. She opened her mouth but then shut them just as quick as her eyes squeezed to will away those biting tears and then she just gave up.

Maybe it was the eye contact or maybe it was because she felt exposed or maybe because for once in her life, someone outside her family was showing her kindness, but it did not matter why because she felt the sting of tears anyway. She reached forward and wrapped her arms around him, around Tobirama, because he was stable and reliable and unchanging and he would never die or leave her and she held onto him tight precisely because of that. Fingers digging into his back, face deep against his chest and he held her, allowing her to let every single thing out.

His fingers ran through her hair, comforting her. His heat surrounding her. But it was not until she felt the soft brush of his lips against her forehead when every wall shattered around her. A shudder ran through her and she knew that he did not kiss her – their heights simply matched up like that – but she tightened her grip for a moment before breaking away from him, feeling as if a part of her had ripped off as well.

"I'm sorry," she said again and hastily wiped the bottom of her palm across her face. "I'm a mess, I know."

He tilted his head the slightest. "I know." He knew that she was a mess - a sobbing, sensitive, too emotional, too easily influenced yet here she was - in his home. Reading his books. Crying over his little his brother, feeling everything that he did not.

In his arms.

She laughed, sadly and shakily. "I don't even know why you put up with me."

That, he did not know.

/waits for Tobirama to make another appearance in the manga.

Meanwhile...

Thirteen chapters, forty six thousand one hundred and fifty eight words later - they are friends.

Success.

Thanks for reading! Reviews would be lovely :)