Fate was a strange, mysterious thing – one which toyed with the lives of an unfortunate few on a whim. Senju Tobirama and Uchiha Madara were among that small number, and neither of them were particularly happy with their current situation.

They were in the recently appointed Hokage's office, the walls a stark, clinical white much like the hospital's own. Tobirama thought that best though – better than some of the obnoxious colours his idiotic brother had wished to paint the walls, anyhow. Hashirama was now further proving his own idiocy too, with the idiotic mission he wished to assign to the pair of them. Why he thought pairing both himself and Madara was a good idea, Tobirama would never understand. He wished to stay out of the way of the sole remaining Uchiha of the main line. He had been the one to deal the wound which ultimately killed Izuna, and Madara was never about to let him forget that fact with his scathing, spiteful comments.

It was nothing new, but that didn't mean he was fine with the way things were. He hated feeling the Uchiha's eyes on his back, burrowing like kunai whenever their paths crossed in the thankfully spacious village.

Hashirama smiled sunnily, oblivious as always to the heavy air between him and the Uchiha. "It'll be good for you, Tobi…" he said, pressing the mission scroll into his waiting hands. "You and Madara will have a chance to… work things out, and you'll be contributing to the village whilst you're doing so!"

His hands closed around the scroll almost reflexively as his brother let it go, and he was left standing there, the dull blue scroll in his hands adorned with the symbol for the Land of Frost telling him it would be a very long mission indeed. There was no point in fighting his elder brother on the matter either. That much Tobirama knew already. Hashirama was a tidal wave of change, sweeping up every single thing in his path, and now his mind was set on mending the rift which had grown between his dear brother and his beloved best friend. Even if he rejected the mission, he would just be given another, much more tedious one with the exact same company.

Breathing out a sigh of exasperation, he broke the wax seal embossed with the stylised leaf they had decided on for Konoha's symbol. It was to be his first larger mission for Konoha, it seemed, and Tobirama had no doubts it would be the worst one yet. Madara huffed loudly behind him, as if to echo his sentiments exactly. He would just have to deal with more of those, and the deadly glares which would no doubt be sent his way in the coming weeks given their joint mission together.

He could have easily handled any mission with any Uchiha other than the one standing slightly behind him. His skin crawled at leaving himself so full of openings – but his brother was there, and Madara wasn't likely to do anything with Hashirama around. He just worried for when Hashirama wasn't around.

Still, Hashirama was happily oblivious to the killing intent which seemed to waft off the Uchiha every time he caught a glimpse of his white-haired self. Tobirama could never seem to bring his brother to notice it either. Or perhaps he did – which was why he was trying to repair the bond between them in a most unorthodox way. Not that there had ever really been a bond between aside from being mutual enemies who had often tried to maim each other when their missions had coincided.

Tobirama's reasoning had been simple: the more maimed the Uchiha was, the safer his brother would be. He had never aimed to kill the man either, if only to spare himself the sad looks Hashirama would send his way if he somehow managed to get lucky. If there was one thing he would never have been able to stomach it would be his brother's ire. Madara meant a lot to him. Tobirama respected that, and it was only that fact which didn't have him outright refusing every single mission with the Uchiha.

Tobirama could still remember the Uchiha's blood-spattered form amidst the corpses of his own clan members, and his blood burnt at the memory. They had killed each other in battles, Uchiha and Senju, and the Uchiha behind him was most definitely harbouring a grudge over that fact. His loyalty to his clan was rabid, and to the memory of his brother even more so.

"Frost Country?" he inquired, quirking an eyebrow at the sheer distance they would have to travel, and also the sheer time he would be forced to spend in the Uchiha's presence.

Hashirama nodded, smile still set upon his lips – it was practically a permanent fixture on his face now that the village was being built under his leadership. "Given the lack of local clans native to that region, a group of villages banded together and sent in a request for our aid." He clapped his hands together. "It seems word of our burgeoning village has even reached their ears, so be sure to make a good impression when you arrive there."

"What mission could possibly require the both of us," Madara grumbled, arms folded across his chest. "Surely your brother isn't so incompetent he can't handle a little delivery by himself."

Tobirama bristled at the tone, biting his lip to keep himself from snapping a reply to those taunting words. Madara just wanted to get under his skin, he reminded himself. He was like that, and he took enjoyment from making his life a misery.

"Snow wolves."

Blinking, he took a few moments to register the name of the creature. It was a simple name, for a simple, brutish kind of wolf, but to him it was somewhat special. He could still remember sitting around the hearth with Kawarama and Itama, huddling close as their mother regaled them with stories about her adventures before she had married into the Senju Clan. She had told them of the snow wolves she had hunted as part of her coming-of-age rite – the same creature from which the sinfully soft pelt around his neck came. Now his brother was giving him a chance to follow in their mother's footsteps, though he had long since passed the age of the hunt for the Hatake Clan from which his mother was sent.

"Huh." Tobirama paused.

Perhaps there was something to look forward to on the mission after all.

The wound in his heart ached like it was still raw.

Every time he caught a glimpse of that white hair, jealousy and rage rose in his chest, and now it seemed he would be forced to travel with the cold-hearted bastard for longer than he would have liked. He pitied Hashirama for being forced to deal with such a brother, though he certainly seemed to have enough cheer for the both of them. But then again, that was part of what he liked about his irritating friend. He couldn't say the same about his younger brother. The younger Senju was taller than him, and he often wondered if Izuna would have grown to be just as tall had his life not been cut short.

His eyes narrowed, a scowl pulling on his lips as he glared into the back of the white-haired Senju. He had stolen away the last of his brothers. Hashirama got to keep at least one, even if he was a literal icicle. All he ever seemed to do was berate his friend, and rarely did Madara see him go over for dinner. Though perhaps that was part of the reason he felt fine to occasionally meet with his friend for dinner. He didn't have to worry about a certain Senju interrupting the pair of them, and Madara was content with that. He loathed Senju Tobirama, and both of them knew that fact – in fact, it was probably just that which made the Senju look so uncomfortable with the mission assignment they had been given.

"Snow wolves," he echoed, tilting his head contemplatively as the icicle stopped looking disgusted at the prospect of a mission with him. "What sort of creatures are they?"

"Wolves," Tobirama inputted oh so helpfully.

"I really had not guessed," he said dryly, casting a glance Hashirama's way, eyebrow raised in question – but his friend ignored the is this really a good idea eyebrow, settling instead for smiling at the pair of them as he began his explanation into the beasts they would be eliminating as per request.

"They're vicious creatures which prey on everything they come across," Hashirama said, nodding at his brother. "Tobi could probably tell you more about them – he always loved listening to our mother's—"

"Anija!" Tobirama snarled, glaring at him in a way which made Madara want for Hashirama to continue the little story. He took enjoyment in ribbing the Senju whenever possible. He wanted that stone-cold face to turn red with embarrassment – wanted him to grow angry – wanted him to give him a reason to beat him bloody. He craved the thrill of a fight as some shinobi did, loving the thrum of adrenaline when he faced a strong opponent. Hashirama's fights had given him that, and Tobirama was a shinobi of a similar calibre, if of a different skillset. Fighting him would give him an outlet for the burgeoning bubble of hate welling up in his chest, but the last thing he wanted was to kill Hashirama's brother.

It would destroy everything they had worked for, and Madara was tired of the constant bloodshed between their clans. He was tired of seeing children die at the hands of the bloodthirsty hatred which had grown unchecked. He didn't have any family left to lose, and that fact burnt, but others of his clan did, and he wouldn't let his selfishness take that chance of peace and happiness away from them. If it was for his clan, then he could bear with the white-haired bastard who'd killed numerous members of his family. Konoha was a new start, and it would give them the peace he and Hashirama sought.

"Are they strong?" he asked, curious as to their strength. It would be awfully boring if they were weak little things which died from a single blow. He stared at Hashirama, eyebrow quirked for a different sort of question; will it be boring?

"Most definitely."

Madara folded his arms, satisfied. "Hn. When do we leave, Senju? Is an hour long enough for you to gather your wits, or do you perhaps need a little longer?"

"You are both permitted to bring along another clansman," Hashirama informed, cutting his brother off before he could spit words out from behind clenched teeth. "You are both unfamiliar with the Land of Frost, but I know some of our clansmen have ventured there before."

Madara looked away, ignoring Hashirama as he sat back down behind his desk – mission assignment completed – his heart clenching painfully again. Izuna had always been eager to take the missions to the Land of Frost whenever the opportunity had arisen. Something about the scenery up there being beautiful was what he had said.

Izuna had always enjoyed the snows when they came, and he would miss the coming ones too. It would be his first winter all alone. So perhaps it was better he would be going north with one of his kin. His clan was growing distant from him the more days he spent cooped up in his newly made house – and it was just a house. It would never be home. Not without family, and he had no intention of starting one.

Children hated him. It was a fact he had grown accustomed to. Still, it wasn't like he would be able to find a woman willing to lie with him and create a family together. His temperament, his obsession with strength, his almost fanatical loyalty to his clan all apparently made him odd – and not many women he had come across liked that oddness. Not many had met his standards either. He loved strength, so just how could he love a woman who didn't have an ounce either mentally or physically? His clan prided themselves on their love, and it showed through their eyes. There was no possible way he could marry without a spark to set match to the flame. Loneliness was that which he was destined for, much to the consternation of the Clan Elders.

"Hikaku is familiar with that area," he remarked, walking towards the office door. "By the gates in an hour, Senju, and bring that scroll with you." With that said, he stormed from the office, quashing the bitter taste that rose at the thought of spending however many weeks in close proximity to the Senju Heir.

Not that he would remain the heir for very long, given the size of the Uzumaki's belly. Their baby was due soon he knew, and they would be raised in a time of peace.

Madara tried to snuff the jealousy that reared its ugly head once more.

How he wished he could have a family too.

She missed him.

Sighing quietly to herself, she stood behind the hearth build at the very centre of her home. Silently, she stirred at the pot of soup cooking over the naked flame. Stoves or cookers, as some liked to call them, were relatively new to the world, and in the backwater little village in the middle of the Land of Frost, they hadn't quite made it there as of yet. But Sakura could make do. She had already adapted to her new life, having been there for five whole years. "Five years," she whispered, closing her eyes as she sat back.

Despite the time passed, she could still feel the sense of guilt and hopelessness she had felt that day when everything she had known and loved had come crashing down around her. She had loved him dearly, no matter his name nor the sheer amount of grief he had carried. Sakura liked to think she had eased the burden on him somewhat, but she couldn't be certain. Now though, he was dead. She had cradled his cooling body desperately wishing she could revive the dead with her healing hands – but she couldn't.

A small, wheezing cough stirred her from her thoughts, and Sakura took the soup from over the fire, pouring out a small bowlful, along with the fluffy soft bread she had procured from the small, local bakery. Extinguishing the fire, she then made her way over to a small room tucked away in the very corner of her home, sliding open the door with barely a sound. Her footsteps were silent, like the well-trained kunoichi she was, and a smile broke out onto her face as a pair of large black eyes opened groggily.

"Kaa-chan?"

"That's right, little bean," she whispered, pushing his damp locks back from his slightly larger than average forehead. It was something he had undoubtedly inherited from her. "You hungry? I made soup."

"Yes please!" he chirped, erupting in a fit of coughing which had her rubbing his back soothingly until they subsided and she went to fetch his lunch. He was a growing boy after all, and he was usually always hungry thanks to his seemingly bottomless pit which had replaced his stomach.

"Eat up, Sasuke," she murmured, watching him as he ate. Sasuke – her Sasuke – had never laid claim to that name. He'd always asked her to call him by the name which he had borne before. Izuna. So she had given her son the name her husband had never wanted to take, and it was why she stayed far away from the Land of Fire, out up in the middle of nowhere, where the only things to worry about were villagers, winters, and the occasional snow wolf.

Not that the wolves would ever touch her son.

She had driven them off more than once, and they had seemingly learnt swiftly not to come near her part of the village. Her days were more peaceful from then on, not that she let up with keeping her body and instincts in shape. She was in the Warring States Period, and those weren't kind to the undertrained and the ill prepared, especially when one had a small life depending on their own.

"Kaa-chan!"

The sound had her popping her head back into her son's room. "What is it?" she inquired, coming to crouch at his side when she spotted the cute frown forming on his face. "Is the room not warm enough? We have spare blankets—"

"Why don't I have a tou-san?" He stared at the sheets in front of him, crumpling them between his small fingers as a frown marred his brow. "Minami was teasing me about it… and Yuki says all kids are supposed to have a tou-san… I don't get it."

Sakura sighed, seating herself on the edge of his bed, pulling him into a hug. "So this is what's been bothering you these last couple of weeks, huh?"

"Kaa-chan?"

Sakura stared at the ceiling, willing back the tears which sometimes threatened to spill when she thought of the love of her life and how he'd been ripped away from her along with any who might be able to support her. But in some ways she liked it. Nobody there knew who she'd been. Nobody there would pity her for being his girlfriend and lover. They hadn't understood him like she had. "Do you want me to tell you about him, then?" she asked, voice soft as she turned to stare at the only piece of Izuna she had left. "Your father…"

Sasuke turned to her, excitement written across his face. She wondered if he got that from her. Izuna never really had been very expressive. "Really? You'll tell me about him?"

"When I first met him, he went by a different name, but later he introduced himself to me properly as Izuna…"