To the outside world, Perseus Jackson is a demigod son of the sea. To himself, he lives on as Senju Tobirama, Second Hokage of the Hidden Leaf.


The memories come late.

Percy Jackson is crawling around the living room when a snake lunges at him. The reptile opens its jaws, exposing venomous fangs that promise nothing but misery and death.

Eyes widen in fear, before they narrow swiftly in concentration. He seizes the creature just as it's about to reach his face, pinning it to the oaken floors of his home in a vice grip.

Senju Tobirama has hunted snakes many a time, it comes with the territory of living near the forest.

Then Percy blinks as he internalises his previous thought.

Who is Senju Tobirama?

And it is then that the dam breaks.


And the Will of Fire burns on


Grover is familiar.

Mind you, he's never met the guy before in his life, but he knows this feeling. He's experienced it so many times in and out of battle that feeling it now is akin to a slap in the face.

The calming serenity that comes from basking in the undergrowth.

The tranquil call of the woods.

And the vicious war cry of the forest's wrath.

Tobirama's no sage but he's the best damned sensor in his entire clan.

But no, this isn't Hashirama. His brother is long gone, lost to the cycle of reincarnation.

And hopefully in a better life.

Grover isn't Hashirama. He lacks the indomitable will of the Senju Clan Head, and where his brother is a dexterous and agile shinobi, Grover is merely a bumbling kid.

But he sees similarities in the ways that they smile, and how they always seem to treat the nature around them with utmost care.

So while Tobirama grieves over the loss of Hashirama, Percy smiles and ruffles Grover's hair in affection.

It's time for him to be the big brother now.


No dying this time, okay?


Percy always thought that a piece of himself was missing, but he could never pinpoint what it exactly was.

It itched at his very soul, gnawing and chewing away at his psyche as he feebly attempted to understand why.

Then he's facing down the Minotaur and the pieces slot into place.

Tobirama is many things.

A scholar, a leader, a politician, and a teacher.

But above all he is a fighter.

And this, this feeling of the whipping wind on his face as he ducks and weaves through attacks, of the roiling current of his blood underneath his skin, and of the strain of muscles with each strike and block.

And the relief that comes with ending a fight in triumph.

Percy Jackson hoists the Minotaur horn overhead in victory as their body crumples to dust, and somewhere deep inside Tobirama breathes a little bit easier.


Because fighting is all he knows


Is everyone in this camp stupid? Because he's starting to think that's the case.

Technology here is so much more advanced than in the Elemental Nations, so why the hell is everyone sticking to primitive melee? Why is no one trying to make firearms?!

Rule number one of warfare: if you can kill the other side without them even reaching you, take the damn option.

Because The Sage only knows what kinds of dirty and underhanded tactics he's pulled in the Warring States to win, and they worked.

(He remembers what the Fourth Hokage did with his Hiraishin to Iwa and Tobirama's thankful Konoha isn't operated by dumbasses.)

But all he gets for an answer is that "The Gods believe in a traditional approach" from the Centaur heading this whole camp, and of course it comes back to politics.

Then there's the Mist, which as far as Tobirama's concerned is basically Genjutsu gift-wrapped in a nice little bow for everyone to abuse as they see fit.

SO WHY IS NOBODY DOING IT?!

Deception is part and parcel of combat! This should be the priority!

They could be used to cover retreats! Assist in ambushes! Even give an edge in a straight fight!

Morons! The whole lot of them!


Intellect is coveted, but clearly not in supply here


Percy gets over the shock of his birthright easily enough.

Because since the beginning he's been attuned to water, he knows like the back of his hand how it ebbs and flows, and how it can turn from a gentle wave to a ravaging torrent within seconds.

The hellhound catches everyone by surprise as it pounces towards him.

But he's already weaving the hand seals he is oh so familiar with.

"Suiton: Suidanha!"

The jet of water exiting his mouth splits the beast in half, and by the time everyone has recovered from the shock of the situation it has already disintegrated.

A shining sea-green trident appears above him and while everyone is suddenly kneeling Percy can only think one thing.

Fucking politics.


He may be a shinobi, but he will only be loyal to the worthy


Annabeth reminds him too much of his past self.

The cold, detached way in which she would analyse situations before acting and the complete abandon of emotion in favour of hard logic all reminded Percy of his previous war-torn life. Had he still been the person he was back then, he would've praised Annabeth for her ability to hyperfocus on the problem and not let herself be distracted.

But Tobirama now understands his personal failings.

Logic and efficiency a good soldier make, but all they gift is an empty grave.

So he takes a page from his elder brother's book, and attempts to steer her away from her self-destructing path with banter and conversation.

(Her sarcasm is surprisingly good, it's definitely been a while since his snarky tendencies have reared their ugly head)

If no one else will bring light to her life, then he will.


It's what Hashirama would've done


Ares gets goaded into a duel, thinking he will win against a supposed child.

But Percy Jackson has more tricks up his sleeve than one would expect, and Tobirama takes smug satisfaction in the idea of taking a God down a peg or two.

Celestial Bronze kunai pepper Ares from long-range, stalling his onslaught and forcing him onto defence.

(He'll have to thank Beckendorf for the tools sometime)

The mist drapes his senses like a blanket, fooling him into attacking illusory clones of himself.

(There's a reason it's an Academy must-learn jutsu)

They lock blades against each other, and Ares grins in glee as he starts to overpower his foe.

But then Percy smiles just as he's decapitated, turning into a mass of water that splatters onto the ground.

Ares rears his head back in shock at the deception, gritting his teeth angrily as he tries to locate the real Percy.

It's too late.

(All 44 hand seals have been completed)

He turns back to spot his foe with hands clasped together in a weird formation, sporting a wicked grin.

But that isn't the issue.

That title belongs to the massive, writhing eastern dragon made of water behind him.

"Suiton: Suiryudan No Jutsu!"


The tides are unforgiving, as is he