Check the bottom for more detailed trigger warnings for this chapter if you want them.
...
The utter shame of it would follow Tobirama into his grave. Worse than that, his complicity would follow Hashirama until the end of the world.
Chapter One
"Oh no," Toka said softly. Her gaze wouldn't lift from the too-small body they had found. "Who were you?"
Tobirama knelt to carefully pat down the corpse for anything identifying. There was nothing useful or distinctive. The child had been dressed in low quality cotton and had a little knife tucked into his obi. Tobirama examined the knife, but it was perfectly typical. The boy had probably needed it for his chores.
The body was cold already. He tried moving an arm- no. Nothing.
'If this had been fresher, it would be a suitable vessel for reincarnating Kawarama.'
"What a waste," Tobirama found himself saying.
"Despicable," Toka agreed. Her voice was affected, high and angry in pitch.
He eyed her curiously but did not say anything. They burnt the body. They went back to the clan compound and reported it, so that if a mission request to find a child came in from a local village the parents could be informed.. But Tobirama could not stop thinking about that small body.
He had solved the problem. He was sure of it now. He needed a vessel and he needed a sacrifice. He had been thinking that the two needed to be one and the same, but that wasn't true, was it?
That opened up possibilities. There were plenty of people who Tobirama would not have ethical qualms about sacrificing for this goal. It would be poetic to use an Uchiha, but any bandit would do as well. But the idea of forcing Kawarama or Itama into the body of such scum did not sit well with him.
'Must it be a human body? Could it be something artificial?'
That would probably be a lot less upsetting for his brothers. They had both died so young. Adjusting to the size of an adult body would be an extra disorientation that they didn't need to cope with.
Inspired, Tobirama returned to a jutsu he had designed for creating a secondary, solid body without an element. In its current form, it was not quite sturdy enough to be a long time host to a spirit.
Fuinjutsu. He thought the answer was in fuinjutsu. Tobirama stole hours between his work to design a seal that should make the clone body all but impossible to destroy.
He thought the three elements would work together - the clone to host a spirit, the seal to secure the clone, the sacrifice to fuel his jutsu to withdraw a human soul from the maw of death.
"Brother," he murmured.
Hashirama looked over, eyes bleary over the wedding contract he was checking for the thousandth time. "Yes?"
"Don't you wish that we had Itama and Kawarama back with us?" Tobirama confirmed.
His older brother blinked at him. A shadow passed over his face. "Of course I do," he said softly. Hashirama put the contract down. "Are you thinking about them a lot recently?" His voice changed tone.
"Yes," Tobirama said. He tilted his head. "Which would you choose to have back?"
Hashirama blanched. "I can't answer that!" He yelped. "I love them equally."
…Not really the point.
"Who would adjust more easily to our current time?", Tobirama rephrased.
His older brother settled down, feathers unruffling. "Hmm… Kawarama." He let out a sigh. "Itama was so gentle. Remember how he cried at Kawarama's funeral?" He was wistful, eyes distant.
Tobirama nodded. "I understand."
Hashirama blinked back to attention and gave him a curious look. His brow furrowed.
He bowed as he stood. "I had better go work," Tobirama said, reinvigorated by his brother's input.
"Good night," Hashirama called after him.
"Goodnight, brother." Tobirama slid the door shut behind him.
He had the details ironed out by the time he had an inescapable errand. Tobirama didn't hide his irritation as Toka bullied him into formal wear.
"You have to see the Daimyo," she said grimly, checking his height. He ducked away from her and she snatched his collar to hold him in place. "If you don't go when summoned, he'll think you are disloyal, that we are disloyal."
"I have no respect for him," Tobirama said. It wasn't a sulk. It wasn't. "I wish him no health and wealth."
His cousin gave him a knowing look. "Obviously," she drawled. "He's so absorbed with water colors and poetry that he's barely aware half the country is on fire. But he has armies. So you're going, and you're going to be polite."
Now he truly was sulking. "I will go," Tobirama said darkly. "I will not enjoy it."
"Of course." Toka held up one of his father's old formal kimono and judged the size against him. "I would hardly expect you to."
"I will use the time for my personal experiments," he threatened. He had been told off for that before.
She shrugged. "Don't get caught." Toka patted his head and started to fold up the kimono. "Otherwise you'll have to do a demonstration for the court's amusement."
At the face he made, she actually laughed at him.
He wished that someone in this clan compound respected him. Unfortunately, Tobirama sighed and endured grandmotherly fussing from a few aunties before he was allowed to leave for the capital.
'Perhaps I can find someone to become the sacrifice for Kawarama's revival in the capital.'
The thought cheered him up.
Yes, actually, that would be a good place to do it. The hustle and bustle of the clan compound would probably be overwhelming at first. Kawarama had been gone for so long, after all. Surely he would be babied even worse than Tobirama was. Taking a few days to acclimate somewhere that Kawarama would just be a face in a crowd… that would help immensely.
Traveling to the capital took two and a half days. He stalked into the guesthouse for wealthy travelers before they noticed he had arrived, forgoing the ceremony of displaying his clan name outside of the building. The workers must have done it anyway, because the wooden plaque was in place the next time that he left the building.
He stayed there for one horrible day before he was invited to court. Tobirama thought that might be the end of it, but of course not. He was not invited to meet with the Daimyo that day. He went back to the guesthouse simmering with irritation.
He had to do something. This trip was otherwise a worthless waste of his time.
"I shall make the clone today," he mused. Tobirama blinked rapidly, cataloging his memory of Kawarama. It was a child's memory of another child. The first clone that he made looked right in proportion, but was far too large to be a child of Kawarama's age. He stared at it. It was as if a normal 7 year old had been stretched equally in all directions.
"It is… cute…" He said it slowly, because he wasn't entirely sure about this assessment. It was also somehow frightening.
He dismissed the clone with prejudice and tried again, and again. He made it perfect because he had no way to be confident that Kawarama could manipulate chakra in this body. That could be a considerable blow, considering that Kawarama had been a remarkable shinobi even at his young age.
Tobirama paused at that thought. 'He will not grow. He may not use chakra. Would he be pleased to forever be a child?'
The thought was disquieting. He dispelled the clone and thought over every angle. Perhaps it would be kinder to put Kawarama into a projection of his adult body? Hashirama and Tobirama had both become quite tall, so his height could be conjectured. And his face- he looked a lot like Hashirama, actually.
'But if he last remembers being 7 years in age… It would be alien to become an adult, years removed.'
Tobirama felt his lips twist in dissatisfaction. There was no way to know which Kawarama would prefer.
The child's body it was, then. In absence of specific reasoning, he would go with his initial inclination.
Tobirama remade the clone. This time, he put the seal on it to hold the clone in place. It watched him with dark, serious eyes.
They looked like Kawarama's eyes, but the thought behind them was Tobirama's at this point. He averted his eyes. "I will fix this soon," he promised to the vision of his brother. His vision blurred over with tears that he couldn't shed. Tobirama abruptly stood and walked away, pacing in the tatami room. It had been 15 years since he had seen that face. Seeing it now, devoid of Kawarama's personality… it cut something deep within him.
He needed to finish the project.
Tobirama had intended to wait, carefully and methodically. He had planned to seek out someone who truly deserved death, or at least someone who would be receiving it regardless. But he couldn't wait. He rose and left the guesthouse, using a genjutsu to paint his hair a much less distinctive brown in a moment unseen. He looked like a rich man, one of the useless noblemen or a particularly lucky merchant. He stalked the city streets, eyes narrowed and weighing up the lives that he saw.
It was Hashirama's dear belief that every human life had the same worth. Tobirama did not disagree. Hashirama would never pick out the covert movements of a petty criminal within a crowd and begin to follow them. In his philosophy, the pickpocket should be talked to and needed a way to make an honest living.
In Tobirama's view of things, protecting the health of the people he loved was his most important task and any human collateral was acceptable, if regrettable.
No one saw him scruff the young man and drag him away with a firm hand over his mouth. In the twilight, it was child's play to carry the now-weeping criminal into his guestroom. Tobirama deposited his prisoner next to the vessel for Kawarama. It blinked, and then rose to help him bind the civilians at the wrists and ankles, and gag him. "My apologies," Tobirama murmured for the first time. He met the man's terrified eyes. "I require your assistance. It will not take very long."
Whatever the man said, it was muffled by the fabric in his mouth. Tobirama stepped back and concentrated on matching his chakra to the obscenely long sequence of hand signs for his jutsu. The sacrifice seized up and began to convulse by the time he'd gotten to Rat, and was falling over limply at Tiger.
The clone gave a sharp gasp and fell to the ground. Tobirama felt a flash of fear but he could not stop until he was finished. Kawarama must have merely been… startled, or not acclimated to the weight of a human body anymore. He lifted himself up on his own and stared up at Tobirama with wide eyes.
Tobirama knelt down. "Hello, Kawarama," he said softly. He made sure to gentle his face. "It has been 15 years."
The boy hesitated. "T- Tobirama-niisan?" He stared up, frightened and small. "You're so big. I'm-" he faltered. "I'm dead." His voice broke. "What have you done?"
Tobirama put a hand on his brother's shoulder. It was cold, through the faux fabric of the transformation. "I fixed it," he said. "You're never going back there."
When he put his arms around, Kawarama's little frame was stiff. After a few moments, he put his arms up around Tobirama in return.
He didn't sleep well. That was odd. It should have been the best sleep of his life, with his little brother returned from the dead. At first Tobirama laid awake listening to the sounds of Kawarama breathing and wondered how long he should wait to revive Itama. Having Kawarama acclimated would help their youngest brother. He was sure of it.
After he finally fell asleep, he had odd, bloody dreams. His dreams were often bloody, of course. He had expected to be haunted by the civilian that he had sacrificed and burnt to hide the crime. Perhaps he might be reminded of past battles. Seeing Kawarama could have easily revived hateful memories of the Uchiha tearing apart his family and leaving burnt husks.
His dreams weren't of battles. He dreamed of a huge, angry mouth tearing his clansmen apart with rotting teeth and spraying their lifeblood onto the dirt. He dreamed of the ground opening up to swallow him down to hell. He woke with the smell of the grave in his nose and to the sight of Kawarama standing over him with an unreadable expression. The little form was eerie in the moonlight, clad only in white garments that nearly fell off of his shoulders because they were intended for Tobirama.
"Little brother," Tobirama said slowly. He sat up. The graveyard smell faded.
Kawarama smiled at him. Then he left without a word for his own futon.
By the morning, he had mostly forgotten the incident. Of course they had an odd night of sleep. It was a very strange situation for both of them.
Reluctantly, he left Kawarama alone in the guesthouse when he went off to the Daimyo's palace. It had been easy enough to inform the servants that he had a relative with him and request extra food and appropriate clothing.
"You really have to go?" Kawarama had never been so timid in Tobirama's memory.
He knelt down to his brother's level. "Yes," he said honestly. It was best not to lie to children. "It's political. The Daimyo wishes to see us appropriately humbled."
Kawarama's face twisted. "Humbled." There was a new quality to his voice. It was gone when he next spoke, so Tobirama dismissed the oddity as his brother's attempt to mimic his cadence. "I- don't leave me alone too long!" He clutched at Tobirama's sleeve. "It's so big here. It hurts."
Tobirama frowned. Did Kawarama remember death? What exactly was he afraid of? His gut twisted. He examined those dark eyes, the match of Hashirama's. "I will keep you safe," he promised fiercely. "I am stronger than the world is big." He disentangled Kawarama's fingers from his sleeve. "I will leave you weapons. You can practice and see how your conditioning is."
"The same." Kawarama sniffed and wiped at his face with a sleeve. "I'm frozen exactly as I was."
Tobirama blinked. "I put you into a clone made from my chakra," he explained slowly. "I assume it would have characteristics similar to my own, and your earth nature chakra is lost to you."
"No," Kawarama disagreed. His voice was thick. "I can tell. I could do anything now that I could when I-" his voice caught.
"I understand." Tobirama cut him off before he could say the words. He hated how tortured Kawarama looked. Being dead must have been horrible. "That is very interesting. Tonight, I will show you some jutsu I have learned since we last spoke."
Kawarama perked up. "Thank you, brother," he said. He bowed.
Tobirama repressed a flinch. He'd forgotten how formally their Father had made them act as small children. Kawarama hadn't treated Tobirama that way, but… now Tobirama was a grown man. He ignored the evidence that his precious brother now viewed him differently. "I will return as soon as possible," he said. He set off eager to be done with the Daimyo.
Through some luck, he was. The Daimyo had Tobirama introduced to the court and fawned over by giggling courtiers. He stood stiffly, hating the attention. He could hear them speak of his face, his musculature, his silent nature. He was allowed to kneel on the floor and pledge his loyalty for the year. Once he rose from the bow, he was free to leave.
He went directly back to the guest house.
Normally he would leave that same night in order to get home. This time, he felt it was better to linger.
When he entered, Tobirama stopped abruptly.
Kawarama was facing away from him in profile, looking out the window. His expression was closed off and hard in a way that did not suit his soft, childish features.
Some deeper instinct told him there was danger. Tobirama stood frozen in confusion, caught between the precious child he saw and the feeling in his heart. 'It's Kawarama,' he told himself. A thrum of anger at his own childishness broke the spell and he called out a greeting. 'Of course he is a little changed. He experienced a terrible death. He will need time.'
"Tobirama-niisan," Kawarama said, in his sweet boyish voice. He smiled up at Tobirama and padded across the tatami to greet him. "How was your day? I saw a bird, so I got food from the kitchen and I fed them. So many came!" His smile melted Tobirama's heart. "They're still enjoying it."
'He can be gentle now,' Tobirama realized. 'His childhood was stolen from him by our Father and the wars. We won't make him fight again, not for years and years.'
His heart felt full and he hugged his little brother, boldly stolen from the Death God himself. "That's wonderful." He felt so light. He was almost ready to sign on with Hashirama's optimism about the Uchiha, the last great threat to Kawarama's safety. Perhaps they should combine their clans. If the Uchiha were not on guard against him, one of them could easily be taken to fuel the jutsu to bring back Itama. There was something poetic about the concept.
"I'm hungry," Kawarama declared. He bounced on his heels. "What's for dinner?"
"I will go and ask." Tobirama rose.
Kawarama pushed past him. "No, I want to!" He ran out of the room, little feet silent with shinobi skill.
Tobirama smiled and watched his brother's back disappear. Then his gaze turned to the grass outside the window. His smile vanished.
The grass was carpeted in dead birds.
TRIGGER WARNINGS
death, animal death