Time passes, and Izuna finds the impossible; a home among the Senju.
For the longest time, she'd felt adrift without the memories tucked into every corner of her familial home to anchor her. Now, she finds new memories, hidden around every corner of not just her home, but the village that's been built around it.
Walking through the village, she is followed by the echo of Hashirama's laugh, so jovial even when he loses a bet—as is his habit—and the phantom ache of training sessions gone by with Mito. The footsteps of her nephew follow her wherever she goes, still clumsy, but quick, and familiar enough she finds she's only imagined them, half the time.
Her sense of belonging is far from complete, but it's returned, for the most part. On the days she cannot find it—still few and far between—she visits her brother, pays her respects at the Uchiha shrine, and returns home.
It surprises her somewhat, how naturally Tobirama has taken to teaching. Perhaps it shouldn't, he was so good with Kagami when the boy was small, after all, but—her husband has never quite lost his appetite for control, and children allow anything but.
Still, when she watches him with his students, his way with them is difficult to deny.
With her own team, teaching had not come naturally, and some part of her couldn't help but resent Tobirama for the ease he found with his own. Izuna has never been afraid of a challenge, but she had found fear in the prospect of failing them, knowing she held their young lives in her hands.
The bond she shares with her students now was hard won, and she holds it nearer to her heart than even the one she shares with her husband, some days. When she looks at them, she finds more pride in their progress than in any work she's done for the village.
Kagami, still a head shorter than herself and wielding his eyes with such mastery that there's no greater danger within the Uchiha than she and her brother themselves. Aina, a quiet girl from the Aburame clan with sensor abilities second only to the Senju and a sometimes-insidious knack for catching the enemy off guard, and Daigo, a Yamanaka boy with such natural strength as a tactician that she wouldn't be surprised to find herself putting his name forward for Hokage, one day.
Izuna has never gone easy on them, and while some part of her always regrets that she can't show them the softness she yearns to, she cares for them and the future they're meant to uphold too much to train them with times of peace in mind. It's her dearest hope that they'll never have to go to the lengths she prepares them for, but it's the knowledge that they'll be ready if ever they're forced to that's allowed her to make peace with the uncertainty of the future.
•
Tobirama has never thought of himself as a man prone to much pride, though Izuna, he knows, begs to differ.
In this instance, he must cede to her assertions about him. Tobirama is proud, not only of the village they've built, but of the love, the home that he and Izuna have managed to build within it, enough so that it staggers him.
Cooperation between the Senju and the Uchiha felt like an impossibility for most of his life. A pipe-dream on the best days, an insult on the worst. Yet, here they stand, and Tobirama better than most knows the affection that can be borne between Uchiha and Senju, and the strength it wields.
Gratitude, perhaps, is his only saving grace in the face of the pride he feels. Izuna has warmed to him, loved him, been loyal to him in a way he still feels he hasn't given her enough reason to, and he struggles to find the words that would convey his appreciation with half as much depth as he feels it.
On their worst days, when their arguments become vicious again and the weight of their past feels heavier than it did when they woke, she still assures him that however angry she becomes, she wouldn't choose any differently for herself, now they've found each other in love.
It feels like nothing he has to offer in return could ever match the comfort he finds in the truth behind her words. Still, he tries.
Izuna lounges on the futon, laid out in thin silk to fight the summer heat, hair still damp from her bath. A vision so tempting she remains unmatched and, he suspects, always will, in his eyes. The fire between them has settled into a comfortable warmth, most days, but Tobirama finds he still burns when he touches her.
As he readies himself for sleep, they exchange stories of their students. Warmth colours her voice when she speaks about their easy camaraderie and Tobirama is helpless against the respect he feels for the struggle he knows she underwent to reach such a feeling.
Both of them know well that the bond between one's team is a matter of life and death, for a shinobi, and she remained steadfast, unwilling to accept anything that would leave her students more vulnerable than they had to be.
Admiration fuels his desire further, and he thinks of little besides the way he craves her skin against his, in comfort and passion both, as he recounts his own students' antics—Koharu having nearly drowned Hiruzen while Homura laughed from the side of the riverbank; the two of them argue enough he feels it's aged him prematurely.
When he's finished speaking, he slips between her bent knees, appreciating the warmth of her skin as he presses a kiss to her hip and settles there. His hands slip past the silk she wears and he tucks his arms under her waist, resting his head against the soft skin of her abdomen.
"I've missed you." Izuna grins down at him and he would feel a fool for the warmth he feels when he looks at her if not for the fact that he knows she feels the same. He feels himself going heavy, calm, as her fingers run through his hair.
"You always miss me."
He means to say—something—something he cannot remember because beneath her skin something has caught his attention. Pulling his hand back to press it flat over her stomach, he feels his heartbeat rise in his chest. The feeling is faint, hardly there, but—
"This chakra—" His mouth has gone dry, "It feels like—"
"Ours, yes." Izuna is smiling. She knows. She knows and she is pleased by the life growing inside of her. Tobirama finds it's quickly becoming difficult to breathe against the feeling that swells behind his ribs and instead focuses on dragging his wife near to him so he might show her every feeling he has no breath to speak.
•
Of all the memories Izuna has made, these are her favourite. The moments that feel sacred. Suspended in the space between she and Tobirama, woven into every breath they share and the life that swells each day under her skin.
These are the memories that carry her forward. The memories upon which they build their future.
A/N: Okay, this took a thousand years to get out, and there are many reasons for that, but the only one that really matters is that I've gotten so fond of this story I really struggled to write an ending that felt right 😭 In the end, I figured I'd keep it short (just like it began) and sweet (not at all like it began).
Of course, if you've gotten as attached to these two as I have, this fic is just the first part in a larger series I'll be continuing this summer 💜 If not, I love everyone who enjoyed this lovely little soap-opera enough to read this far anyways ✨💜✨💜
I've got about a million more fics planned for these two characters (let's not even think about how many I have planned for Naruto in general), feel free to stop by my tumblr/twitter if you're curious about them or just want to say hello 💜