Chapter 2
Love and Hatred

When they approached the Senju settlement that dead morning of grey, the procession of returning shinobi entered as if a dirge.

Laying silent and still inside a wood coffin fashioned by Hashirama's divine kekkei genkai of the forest, Jun once more returned to his homeland – only this time, he was to never again leave. Eternal slumber in the Pure Land awaited him, as did his father and many brothers. Another man carrying the bloodline of the Senju was called to the table of death. Carrying the coffin into the village, Hashirama led the procession with dark eyes blank with sorrow, his frown cracking against his usually calm exterior as he held his head high while he walked. As the new chieftain of the Senju, he had to do well to contain his emotions as a strong leader should – his father saw to it himself that he remembered. Holding the front handle of the coffin, Tobirama averted the glances of the stunned villagers while his anger twisted inside his throat. At the back of the coffin, Tohei the messenger held back tears as his scowl broke upon his fractured expression, his cheeks damp with grief and anger.

Coming to a silent and slow halt near the base of the elder tree in the village's center, they set the coffin down upon the earth damp with dew. Eyes were upon the from all angles, the many villagers – young and old – staring in silence as yet another coffin entered their settlement. There were often too many to count, at times. Death was a frequent visitor during the Warring States Period, and he long overstayed his welcome. It seemed as though the many daimyo who fought for control of the lands welcomed death as long as he did not claim their own nobility for his own – only the quarreling shinobi they hired for their bitter wars of conquest would do as an offering. One thousand years was certainly long enough. Hashirama was uncertain if the Senju would even survive another one hundred years if the wars continued, if he had to outright predict the future.

"No… No!"

As the droves of Senju slowly approached the wooden coffin in silent mourning, a woman with aged eyes and greying hair stumbled amongst the crowd with her trembling daughter frantically following behind her. Her shaking fingers upon the coffin, the woman collapsed to her knees in the mud. Her wails echoed through the heart of the village, her crackling voice breaking with her sobs. Close behind, her fair young daughter wept silently, cupping her face with her quivering hands.

"My son!" The woman cried out. "My boy… My dear sweet boy…!"

Her forehead laying upon the wooden texture of his resting place, the daughter sobbed upon the coffin, her worn pink kimono becoming damp from the earth below. "Jun…!" She trembled, her voice quivering. "Brother… I'm sorry…!"

Descended from a long line of shinobi, Jun was the youngest son of the late elder Kōjin. A close childhood friend of Butsuma, Kōjin was ten years his senior and his distant cousin, and it was he who lent his hand many times during the ceaseless conflicts between the Senju and the Uchiha. When Jun was only an infant, his father returned to the village as a charred pile of ash – the unquenchable fire-release of the Uchiha claiming the life of Butsuma's trusted companion as well as all of his men who fought alongside him that dreaded day. All four of his sons would soon meet the elder once more in the Pure Land, while his only daughter remained on Earth to comfort his widowed wife - Masuyo.

Masuyo was the daughter of a lowly farmer with no bloodline or kekkei genkai to call his own. She was once young and beautiful, with hair dark as night and eyes as blue as the summer skies. Merely sixteen, she accepted Kōjin's proposal – a seasoned, well-armored Senju shinobi who was approaching his thirties. At the night of her union with Kōjin, she wore an exquisite kimono fashioned with silk and they were married at the shrine before the elder tree – as was customary for all Senju weddings. Marrying within the clan was viewed as taboo by outsiders, but it was the accepted norm for generations so that the Senju bloodline would not wane. Carrying on their legacies by their father's name alone, the Senju had long avoided the taboo of family relations by recognizing lineages from the name of the father – distancing themselves as far as sixth-cousins. Many clans across the vast lands beyond the forest did the same, from the far east to the far west, from north and south – to best preserve their strength in numbers and to protect their inherited kekkei genkai. Although, some clans such as the brutal and cannibalistic Kaguya clan that lay waste to the countries riddled in the mists were no stranger to taboos – and they made many, including intermarrying with their own siblings, their flesh and blood – or so was the rumor. The union of Kōjin with Masuyo was a rare instance of outside-marriage, and it proved to be fruitful with their four sons and sole daughter. However, the losses Masuyo felt from her husband and sons proved too great, and she aged well before her time. Where she stood in her late forties, her once shiny black hair was near white from the stress and her blue eyes were dull from grief.

Hashirama remembered his father saying so to him and his brothers one night when they were children – when they asked about their own mother. As a grown young man, Hashirama could not remember his mother, nor did Tobirama. Hailing from the Senju, Butsuma's late wife was the daughter of a Senju named Takeshi – a civilian who tended to the rice fields outside of the clan's settlement and forged katanas in his great hearth. Moriko was a kind and fair beauty, with calm dark eyes hued with a warm red and silky hair as rich as the soft snows of winter. Upon meeting for the first time within the clan's forest while she was gathering herbs, they were married within a fortnight. After the birthing of her first three sons, the fourth proved difficult – and she passed shortly after Itama was born upon the crimson soaked sheets of her birthing bed. Butsuma was never the same. When he was seldom aware, some of the older Senju men would often say he became harsh with time. They were not wrong, and his sons could clearly see the pain within their father's fractured gazes as he was reminded of his late lover every moment he looked at his children – Tobirama, especially. Hashirama was often told he inherited her kind heart.

As he stood before the crying women by the coffin of their loved one, Hashirama hung his head low in shared sorrow. Jun was too young to die a shinobi's death, and certainly too young to be buried amongst his kin. The day after his inauguration as chieftain, he was being tested by both the forest gods and the gods of death.

"It was them, wasn't it? The Uchiha."

Turning towards the silent crowd of mourning, Tobirama sensed the elder Uda approach clad in his worn armor, the Senju crest marked by the indents of blades. Uda was one of the last surviving shinobi from his father's generation, a relic of the past. As Tobirama met his narrowed hazel eyes, he turned back towards the coffin of his young comrade.

"Yes, I'm afraid," He answered. "By the looks of it, there wasn't any more than five."

"Curse them…!" Uda growled, clenching his fists at his sides. "Damn those blood-eyed bastards! They'll pay for this… he was Kōjin's last son. They must've known… curse them!"

"Any news on the Hagoromo clan? Have they encroached onto our lands again?"

Catching his attention, Uda nodded. Looking back towards where Jun's body lay before his weeping family, he narrowed his eyes in held frustration and suspicion. "Rumor on the winds is that there was a battle with the Hyūga clan in the distant plains. Their numbers have fallen, so they gathered all they could and retreated to the hills. I can't see the Hagoromo holding on for much longer without the alliance of the Uchiha… It seems their bloodshed has finally caught up to them."

"I see," Tobirama spoke, his red eyes narrowing in thought. Calming his glance, he turned towards the elder with a stoic and stern expression marked on his white face. "This would be an ideal time to send a hawk to the Hyūga, then. We need all the allies we can muster."

"Yes, sir." Uda bowed, starting on his way towards the sheltered aviary on the outskirts.

Before the wooden coffin, Tohei sat with his katana pierced through the dirt, his hands shaking upon its black hilt as his eyes continued to weep as the sight of his late friend and comrade. He and Jun had done everything together. They trained together, ate together, laughed together, shared dreams together – and now he was dead. A creature born of four legs had to learn to adapt to walking upon two. Gritting his teeth in sobbing anger, Tohei shuddered before the coffin bitterly.

"If only I reached him in time…" He uttered. "I could've saved him!"

"Now is not the time for such thought, Tohei."

The calm and flat voice of Hashirama caught him off guard for a moment. Whipping his head towards him, Tohei met the blank glance of his new chieftain with widened eyes of grief and rage as the greying skies towered over them in the village.

"But Jun…! He's… dead!" He spat. Grimacing to himself, he hung his head low as his shoulders shook with oncoming sorrow. "And I couldn't do anything… What good is being a shinobi if I can't even save one friend?"

His glance saddening upon Jun's coffin, Hashirama stood in brief silence as he pondered for an answer to give. He, too, felt guilt for the death of their comrade – but such a death was to be expected if you were born a Senju. Being born a son into any shinobi clan marked every man for the life of a warrior. Dying young was to be expected in these dark times of war and bloodshed. Desperately, Hashirama wished for change – and the winds were persuading him to do so. Meeting Tohei's sobbing expression, he gave a sympathetic glance from his dark eyes.

"You were following your duty to the Senju," He said. Gesturing towards the wooden coffin and the mourners, Tohei followed the chieftain's gaze towards their fallen. "As was… Jun. He followed our clan's decree until the very end, with the utmost honor."

Understanding his words, Tohei looked down towards his blade, his dark eyes and their green gleam containing his deep hurt. He knew Hashirama was right, but the Uchiha would never be forgiven – not ever. Turning towards the Senju priest who stood close by, Hashirama gave a stern-eyed glance – the expression of a leader returning.

"Prepare a pyre for our fallen. We will bury his ashes with his family at dusk once the rain passes."

"Yes, Hashirama-sama." The priest bowed, starting on his way.

As dusk drew near, Hashirama lit yet another great pyre for a fallen Senju clansmen. As the grief-stricken Masuyo and her daughter looked on, they watched as their chieftain stepped towards the final marker with his flaming torch, igniting the fire that would lay Jun to rest with his father and brothers. Although beheaded out of disrespect by the Uchiha, the priest lay his husk upon the pyre as if he were whole – praying silently to the forest gods for his spirit to enter the Pure Land in one piece. As the embers flickered upon the air, Tobirama looked on in held frustration as he watched Jun's body burn upon the great pyre. Close by, Tohei stood silent as his heart grew heavy with the pain of his loss as his eyes burned with fire.

After Jun's ashes were buried beside his elder father Kōjin and his brothers, Hashirama was summoned by the remaining elders of the Senju within the confines of his mansion. Silently, Senju guards stood before the sliding doors of the chamber, their spears ready at their sides. Sitting before the chieftain and his brother Tobirama were the three surviving elders – Uda among them, his wrinkled scowl visible upon his features. As the candlelight of the paper lanterns flickered from the night, their conversation grew serious as their hushed tones rose with urgency.

"Hashirama-sama," The elder Toba began, his white beard reaching the lap of his blue kimono. "We fear another attack by the Uchiha. Our scouts to the north have reported that they're gathering their highest-ranking shinobi and assembling their clansmen at the far reaches of our forest, about five-hundred strong. They will launch an attack within a fortnight… our scouts have determined."

"Uda-sama," Hashirama spoke, his glance narrowed in seriousness. "How many able-bodied Senju do we have?"

"About one hundred… my lord." He answered, regretfully. "We lost many in the recent attacks from both the Uchiha and Hagoromo…"

"And the daimyo?" Tobirama asked, turning towards him. "Any word from the palace?"

Shaking his head in regret, Toba clenched his palms upon his knees while he sat. "Our gracious lord can't be bothered to leave his tower, it seems. Our hawk was sent back with our own message… along with a message conveying the daimyo's wishes to retain the lands he currently has in his possession… 'No men from the capital will be sent to do battle alongside the Senju'. Shinobi fight… and the lords claim the lands they conquer…"

Looking down at his lap, Tobirama narrowed his red eyes in bitter distaste from the words he heard the elder confess. One hundred was all they had. The Senju of the forest could not afford to lose another battle. To lose their next battle would mean certain extinction of the clan, and the odds seemed as if they were not in their favor. Mulling over Uda's words, Hashirama reflected to himself for a moment in silent thought. As chieftain, he knew he had to make difficult decisions, but to have one hundred shinobi lives at risk was something he had not yet fathomed.

"I would like to request you send forth five shinobi." Hashirama commanded. "Have them meet before the gates armored and equipped before dawn. I will be leading a negotiation envoy to the Uchiha clan's settlement."

"Hashirama-sama!" Uda barked, slamming his palms against the tatami floor. "You can't be serious?! You would be killed! How can you expect those savages to listen?"

"We have only one hundred shinobi," He answered, his stern expression remaining calm under pressure as he felt the stunned and shocked glances around him. "One hundred lives don't need to be lost. We will leave with five men, and we will return with five men."

"Elder brother!" Tobirama stood, gritting his teeth. "Reconsider! You may have known Madara as a child, but he has truly become a monster. Lands have been ravaged since he's become the chieftain of the Uchiha… do not let yourself be blinded by your past friendship!"

"I know that."

Startling by his uttered words, Tobirama and the elders watched as Hashirama stood from his cushion upon the floor. His expression remaining stone-faced and calm, the chieftain glanced towards them as his powerful chakra could be felt within the room.

"I'm asking for reparations… not an alliance. They've killed many of our men unprovoked." He said, his tone dry. "I must speak with Madara himself. If he wants a war, we would have no choice. But… if war can be avoided, I will do all I can as chieftain to protect the Senju."

Speechless, Toba sat silent as words failed to reach his aged lips. Beside him and Uda, the elder Seimu – the oldest living Senju of over one hundred and ten years – reared his wrinkled head to the young leader with his expression concealed by sagging skin and briskly white facial hair.

"Hashirama-sama," He spoke, his voice as soft as a spring breeze. "Your strength is admirable… and so is your desire for peace. Do you still… dream of that peace?"

"Yes," He nodded, meeting his glance. "I do."

"You would do well to remember… we of the Senju have our way of life, and so do the other clans… and the Uchiha. If you truly want peace, you must end hatred. To end hatred, you must form understanding. To form understanding, you must form love…-,"

"Elder Seimu, with all due respect-," Tobirama interrupted. "The Uchiha are cursed by hatred. They will never listen to understanding, they're not capable of love -,"

"No clan knows love more than the Uchiha," Seimu replied, his voice calm and swift in his old age. "From the loss of love, hatred is born… and so the cycle continues." Turning back to Hashirama, the great elder met the chieftain's saddened expression that was lost in deep thought. "I wonder… Hashirama-sama, would you be the one… to break the cycle?"

Meeting the great elder's wrinkled expression, Hashirama gave a subtle bow of his head. "Seimu-sama," He spoke, quietly. "I will do so with honor… you have my word as a Senju."

With a troubled glance, Tobirama watched his elder brother bow towards the elders and leave the room, the sound of the sliding doors closing filling the still air around them. For an instant, he caught the thought of him wondering what he would do if he were the rightful heir and chieftain. He knew he would show no mercy to the Uchiha for what they have done and would have led an ambush to their doorstep in full-force – one-hundred strong. Startling himself, his mind immediately shook off the thought the moment it entered his mind, cursing to himself under his breath for such treacherous thoughts. It was Hashirama who was chieftain, not himself – he reminded himself in his thoughts.

Following close behind, he started down the halls to prepare for the journey to the Uchiha clan's settlement north of their forest…

The morning songs of the birds filled the forest air that early morning while the darkness of the night still danced amongst the skies. Clad in their armor, Hashirama and Tobirama were accompanied by five of the strongest Senju shinobi – all five of them young men who would have been the same age as Jun if he had lived. Fastening their katanas to their sheaths at their backs, the Senju stood at the gates in formation as they discussed their plans for departure in hush tones. Sensing someone approach, Tobirama turned behind only to find Tohei running towards them clad in his Senju armor and blade in hand. Standing up, Hashirama narrowed his glance towards him in suspicious curiosity.

"Tohei," He said. "Have you news from the elders?"

"No, sir," Tohei knelt with a bow, looking down at the ground before him. "I'm here to disembark with you and Tobirama-sama."

"No," Hashirama replied, sternly. "Go back to the village. You have your fellow guardsmen to -,"

"I'm not standing guard and doing nothing!"

Surprising them, they turned towards the standing young man. His eyes were fraught with intensity and determination while his expression remained still as if like slate. Holding his katana at his side, he tightened his grip upon the hilt of his blade.

"I'm going with you… for Jun's sake. He would've wanted me to… I know it."

"Elder brother," Tobirama spoke in hushed tones as he stepped closer to his ear. "Tohei is young, but he may be a good asset to our mission… He has much to learn, but he will be the teacher to the next generation of Senju… once our times have passed…"

Pondering to himself, Hashirama stood silently as his dark eyes closed halfway in empathy. Tohei was still visibly shaken and hurt from the loss of his friend, but perhaps his determination was good in intentions. Meeting Tohei's narrowed gaze towards him, he closed his eyes for a moment and gave a light smile – dissipating the tension lingering amongst the air between them.

"Very well," He nodded, opening his eyes. "You can accompany us, but you must listen to the commands of your superiors. This will be a highly dangerous task, and the journey is long, so stay close and keep your blade ready."

Brimming with anticipation, Tohei smiled back. "Yes, sir!"

Gathering in formation, the six Senju shinobi dashed across the grassy meadow that marked the entrance of their settlement, reaching the forest floor within a matter of moments. The Uchiha waited within the far reaches of the forest boundary, a day's journey northeast from where the Senju lay hidden amongst the trees of the great forest. In the region known for its fiery mountains of the south sea, the lands ravaged by war from their feudal lords cried out for it to end as the tree leaves danced in the brisk winds of early spring.

The cold still lingered as they departed for the north…