Notes: I'm playing with Hashirama. The way I see it, he is so caught up in his quest to protect his brothers all by himself that he forgets to consider that they have desires of their own. It is as if he likes the idea of them more than the actual individuals. I am exaggerating, because of course Hashirama loves his brothers, but there's something about the way he tends to exclude them in the few flashbacks we got that makes me wonder. I think he is a lot like Butsuma – only at the other end of the cheerful–stern spectrum. The way he simply decides what is best for everyone when he talks in secret to Madara is very Butsuma-like to me.

Summary: Hashirama and Tobirama train with their father. Tobirama has trouble keeping up.

"On your feet, Tobirama!"

Three-year-old Tobirama Senju looked down as drops of sweat rolled off his face and dotted the tatami mats next to his hands. Not even his father shouting from across the room could get him to move at this point. He was out of breath, his hands were shaking and his legs felt as heavy as if they were tied to two sacks of weights. Every muscle in his body was burning from exertion, rebelling against his will. He wanted to rise and obey his father's command, but he simply could not.

"Did I hurt you, Tobi?" Hashirama asked.

The young boy was able to lift his head at least, to reassure his older brother. His brother's hit had unbalanced him, but it was not the reason he was on his knees. His foot had cramped, loudly protesting the effort it had been put through. Looking up along the practice bokken trained on him, he tried to shake his head, but he was gasping and breathing so heavily that he doubted that the message had gotten through.

Regardless, it would have to do. He dare not attempt to speak, lest their father hear and scold him. "If you have enough breath in you to talk, you have enough breath in you to fight," was the lesson he got most often.

Tobirama had started his ninja training close to a month ago. There were many things about it that he enjoyed, such as the opportunity to spend time with his older brother and father. Then there were many more things that he was not so sure about. Every day, his father pushed him to the limit of his physical endurance. Hashirama had been training for three years already, had even gone on several missions as part of a ninja team, so he could handle the exercise much more easily than him. Tobirama worked his hardest, but still he could not hope to keep up as his father expected him to.

A follower of the "learn or die" school of thought, Butsuma did not spare him. The one lenience he had been granted was the use of bamboo shinai throughout the first month of learning. Now that he had a grasp on the basic positions and katas, however, the flexible bamboo practice swords had been exchanged for the bokken, which were made of solid wood, much heavier and much more similar to actual katanas.

They were harder for a three-year-old to balance properly. Tobirama was often thrown by simply trying to hold a sword that was taller than him and thicker than his arm. The bokken hurt a lot more when they hit too, but that was half the reason that they used them. Butsuma wanted to toughen him up, so that he could better withstand the injuries that would come when he joined the war as a ninja for his clan.

The idea that the pain was for his benefit was difficult for a three-year-old to apprehend. All that Tobirama knew for sure was that his father knew what was best, that his whole family was fighting and that he had to join them if he wanted to help them. If it meant that he could keep Hashirama and his father and all of his favourite relatives from dying like his other cousins and uncles and the grandfathers that he had never known, then he would do his best to endure whatever training his father put him through.

His resolve and youthful resilience notwithstanding, at the moment he was sure that he would break. His breath would not even out and his heart would not slow down. Worse, his foot was hurting so badly that he could barely stand. The pain was continuous, extending throughout his leg and up to his thigh.

Hashirama finally lowered his sword, abandoning his ready attack position, and came to lend Tobirama a hand. He had to support most of the younger boy's weight, but eventually he got him up on his feet and helped him to walk over to their father.

"I don't think he can go any further, Father," Hashirama said.

Butsuma's stern countenance never faltered. Arms crossed as he studied Tobirama's sweaty face, he took his time before answering.

"Go home and rest, Hashirama," he ordered. "You have a mission tomorrow. Your brother and I will continue without you."

Tobirama felt the jolt that went through his brother's body. He looked to the side to see him staring at their father wide-eyed. Hashirama avoided making eye contact with him as he acknowledged the command and gently disentangled himself from Tobirama, who was forced to rest all of his weight on one leg so that he would not fall. Once he was sure that his younger brother was steady on his feet, Hashirama handed their father his bokken and left.

He had not said anything, but his body had betrayed his reaction and Tobirama knew exactly why he had jumped. He felt the same way, afraid of what Butsuma would do next.

If he did not have the strength to fight Hashirama, he certainly had not the strength to go up against their father. And Hashirama had told him many times of how glad he was that they could practice together now that Tobirama was old enough, because training with their father had been a hundred times worse.

Tobirama clenched his fists in despair. He wanted to please his father and help his family, but he was not strong like Hashirama. He was small and weak.

He braced himself as his father came closer, holding the bokken with natural ease.

"Next time, there will be no reprieve," Butsuma began with a hard voice, tapping Tobirama's shoulder with the wooden sword.

The boy's head snapped up. Not because of the touch, but rather because it was very rare that his father spoke like that to him. He either spoke to Hashirama or barked orders at the room about what they should do. These words right now were meant for him and him alone. Tobirama would listen as carefully as his current state allowed and treasure them.

"Your enemies will not stop as Hashirama did should you fall, and neither should you. It is a sign of respect not to hold back. If the opportunity arises, they will kill you. And if the opportunity arises, you will do the same to them. There is no room for compassion in a ninja's heart, no room for weakness or pain or exhaustion. We must rise above it if we are to survive. Do you understand, Tobirama?"

He did not understand every word, but he thought he knew what his father was saying all the same. Do not be weak or you will die.

"Yes, Father."

"Good. Then we will take a break. Put some ice on that foot and drink some water. We will continue after."