peripheries
prologue
Smoke, yelling, a broken wrist.
Training with Hashirama was a bitch.
Especially in recent days he was pushing himself, working his body to the brink of exhaustion and then some more. His punches were getting stronger, just as his yells became louder.
The shouting still rang in Tobirama's ears as he backflipped over a tree that had suddenly sprouted from the ground and landed nimbly on the branch of another. Hidden in the leaves, he palmed his kunai pouch, closed his eyes and observed.
The chakra signatures of his brothers were like two lights, warm and familiar, but where Kawarama's was a steady flame, Hashirama's roared. In the far distance to the south-west, he felt the presence of his father and the rest of their clan, a bright congregation of energy that waxed and waned as people came and went.
Opening his eyes, he pushed aside a leafy branch and glanced out. Hashirama was engaged in a one-on-one with Kawarama, and Tobirama could tell that against their younger brother, he was pulling his punches. He frowned at the sight.
He plucked out a kunai with his good hand and flipped the handle, drew back his arm and let fly.
A sudden presence to the west, like a ping in the back of his mind, made him jerk and the weapon went wide, burrowed into a freshly grown tree with a dull thock. The sound had his brothers stop in their spar.
"Oi," Hashirama called up into the canopy, "got hit in the head? That's what you call aiming?"
Tobirama was on the ground next to him in a flash.
"Enemy signature," he said curtly even as he ducked beneath his older brother's half-hearted swipe. "Three o'clock, two-hundred paces."
"Who is it?" Hashirama asked, sobering quickly. He motioned for Kawarama to move behind him, pulled a kunai from the pouch at his hip.
"I don't know," was the blunt reply. "Nobody we know."
Tobirama scanned the tree line beyond which he could feel a thrum of chakra. It was feeble, and faint, like a dying bird, and virtually undetectable from this distance to anybody else.
"How come you haven't sensed them before? Nobody has ever been able to sneak up on you."
Tobirama ignored Kawarama's question. Instead he narrowed his eyes, gauged the foreign presence, and after a moment's consideration moved forward with easy steps.
"H-hey, where are you going?" Kawarama yipped, grasped at his tunic in an attempt to hold him back. Tobirama shrugged him off.
"Go back home. Stay safe," he ordered bluntly, before slipping into the bushes.
"No!" Kawarama's protest echoed after him. "I want to come!"
"You're only four," Hashirama replied gently. "It could be dangerous. Go and get father."
"Yeah, and you're only ten," the petulant huff sounded, but then there was the sound of retreating steps.
Tobirama let out a slow breath. He waited until he could hear nothing besides the gentle rustle of leaves high above before moving further into the thicker. Hashirama followed close on his heels.
Kunai drawn, broken wrist cradled against his torso discreetly, he led his brother through the trees to where the intruder was hiding.
"Who do you think it is?" Hashirama whispered behind him. "We're on Senju land. Nobody should cross this far over the border. And how come you didn't sense them until now?"
Tobirama shot him a nasty glance over his shoulder, but Hashirama was right. Even now, without concentrating, he was able to pinpoint their father with ease, his presence a blazing sun in the far distance, and Kawarama's smaller flame as he hightailed it back to the compound in record speed.
The foreigner had to be an expert at hiding to have escaped his notice for so long.
A hundred paces more and his musings were put to an end.
The weakness of the chakra was explained easily by the irregular, rattling breaths that carried through the woods. Hashirama heard it, too. Slanting a glance at his younger brother, he took the lead and carefully they crept forward, following the pained coughs. A faint tang of blood curled through the air, and it grew stronger the closer they got.
Now all that separated them from their target was an old oak. Past its thick trunk, Tobirama could make out a pair of legs. Black pants. No shoes. A quick sign from Hashirama and he took to the trees, as quiet as a shadow. Up the bark he went, diving between the leaves, and, high above the ground, inched his way forward on a particularly sturdy looking bough.
Below, the bloodied figure of a woman slid into view, clad in a dark blue haori. The smooth black handle of a sword jutted from her midsection like an accusing finger. She was in no fighting condition.
Tobirama waited, tense, for Hashirama to round the tree and gauge from a distance whether it was safe enough to approach. When he did, his movements were careful, and the distance he kept was sensible.
High up in the branches, his younger brother approved.
"State your purpose!"
The words echoed through the woods like the crack of a whip. A pained moan was the woman's only answer. Eyebrows drawing together, Hashirama took a step forward. It was supposed to be threatening, but when he repeated his question, this time the woman chuckled. It quickly morphed into a coughing fit and a spray of blood that splattered across the ground.
"My purpose?" she rasped.
Her hands rolled weakly where they rested next to her thighs, and Tobirama supposed that if she had more strength, the gesture might have been a shrug.
"Dying, I guess."
Hashirama blinked and his stand-offish attitude slipped off his frame like water. Tobirama cursed his brother's soft heart.
"Who hurt you? You don't carry any insignia I recognise."
He took another step but then Tobirama was there, landing softly on the ground and holding him back by the shoulder.
"Don't," he warned, even as he looked over the woman with calculating eyes.
Some emotion he couldn't place flickered across her dirty face, and she tilted her head to the side.
"Oh," she rasped, and against the blood in her lungs the sound came out more like a gargle. "You're so small..."
Immediately, Tobirama tensed. She smiled, then coughed again. Tremors racked her battered frame.
"You need help," Hashirama said, worry clear in his voice. "What can we do?"
The woman regarded them with hooded eyes, blinked slowly.
"I'm cold," she said eventually in a strained whisper. Hashirama immediately took a step forward.
"Yes! Just let me –"
All previous suspicion seemed forgotten, and Tobirama tightened the grip he had on his brother's shoulder in warning. Be careful.
"Oh please, Tobi," Hashirama snapped and shrugged off his hand. "Can't you see she's close to death!"
He stepped closer, fell to his knees next to the dying woman, and Tobirama, who was growing more and more twitchy under the feverish scrutiny of her eyes, decided on the most sensible course of action.
"I'll go and get father."
He took off through the woods in a flash. Their father met him halfway.
"Kawarama told me of a breach."
His barked words contained an unspoken order, so Tobirama nodded and fell in step beside him.
"She's almost dead and no threat. I left Hashirama with her."
Butsuma slanted his son a sharp glance as they leaped through the trees.
"She?"
Once they were close enough, it was easy to find the spot, even without Tobirama's heightened senses. They only needed to follow the metallic stench of blood. But when they dropped to the ground, all they found was Hashirama who was clutching the chokuto that had pinned the woman down in his bloodied hands. His face was white as a sheet.
"Where's the woman?" Butsuma asked sharply.
Hashirama turned wide eyes first on him, then his brother.
"She just… disappeared," he stammered. "I pulled out the sword to heal her and she… she just… vanished."
With a frown Tobirama took the weapon from his brother's fingers and focused his senses.
"It's true," he confirmed after a moment.
His eyes followed a drop of blood as it slid down the blade and, for a moment, quivered on the very tip.
"I can't find her anywhere."
"Hm."
Butsuma looked around, at the deep groove where the woman was nailed to the oak, toed soaked and rust-coloured ground with one boot.
"We'll return to the compound. Double the watch, have someone sweep the area. I don't want either of you going out on your own."
Still pale as death, Hashirama turned to his brother.
"You really can't sense her?" he asked.
Wrung his hands which were stained red.
"No," Tobirama answered slowly.
He shook his head as he watched the drop of blood tremble and finally fall. It splattered in front of his foot, disappeared into the ground. He handed the sword to his father.
"She's gone."
A/N: Welcome to peripheries!
This story is going to be my longest as of yet. It was supposed to be a one shot, but since it escalated into a pure monster made up of drama and drama and some more drama to top it off, I decided to split it into a couple smaller sections.
Those are still going to be long-ish, don't worry. Nothing like and the scarry skies above.
But, if you enjoyed the vignett-y style of that story, you might find that you carry a soft spot for this one.
Since the prologue doesn't fit with the rest of the story, I've decided to post it separately, even though it's pretty short.
As you might have taken from the description, this story deals with time travel, and is going to be a TobiSaku.
(I love them so much together, and I couldn't even tell you why.)
This story stands in no relation to cold spots or colder spots.
I hope I'll be able to do the story justice. It seemed really epic when the idea first popped into my head.
Happy reading!
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